


Beyond Repair

by the_typewriter_improviser



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anna Brightman, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Captain America: The First Avenger, F/M, Original Character(s), Romance, Wartime Romance, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 53,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_typewriter_improviser/pseuds/the_typewriter_improviser
Summary: While World War II is raging on, Anna Brightman is just trying to get her chemistry degree. When she's offered a spot on a military project, working under Dr. Abraham Erskine, Anna leaves her lonely life in Manhattan for the European Theater. The fight against HYDRA is fierce, but when Bucky Barnes is next to her, war is the last thing Anna thinks about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I originally posted this on FF.net. Some edits have been made for the original, mostly just fixing errors I missed years ago.   
> I spent most of my junior year of high school working on this; I'm a junior in college now, and I am still proud of this story.  
> I'm new to ao3, and don't have a whole lot of tags on this story yet, if you haven't noticed. If anybody has any tag suggestions, please contact me!   
> I hope you all enjoy it!

I nervously paced in the hall, my skirt swishing around my knees and my shoes making light tapping noises on the marble floor.

"Oh...Oh what am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?  _What_ am I gonna  _do_?" I said under my breath, my eyes slowly widening and my hands moving to comb through my hair at my temples.

" _Lordy-_ what am I gonna do?" I said, just a little louder.

"Something wrong, miss?" I heard an accented voice ask from my left.

I jumped and spun on a heel. "Yeah- _Yes_ , yes, I mean yes. Yes, yes I'm alright, everything's alright." I answered quickly, all in one breath, nodding, as I looked at the man who'd spoken to me. He was older, with a graying beard and hair. Clearly, he was German, going by his heavy accent, and was wearing round glasses.

"Are you  _sure_?" He asked me again, this time narrowing his eyes a little and leaning towards me.

"I-Uh—I-I'm sorry, who are you? Are you a professor here?" I asked, quickly picking up my bag from the floor.

"Oh, no, no I am not," the man laughed, bringing his arms out from behind his back where they had been clasped; there was a file in one hand.

"I _wish_ I had attended a school like this," he said, looking around the hall. I wasn't sure what to do, so I nodded, pulling the strap of my bag over my shoulder.

"You look like you've done something you shouldn't have," the man added, a certain knowing, almost mischievous, look in his eyes and a conspiratory smile on his face.

"Um..." I said shakily, instinctively taking a step back from the man and towards the door I had been pacing in front of.

Looking at me out of the corner of his eye, the man stepped around me and opened the door. I shut my eyes as he did, only opening them after I had ducked my head and was looking at my shoes.

"Oh my...Well, you certainly have accomplished  _something_  here," he said with a soft chuckle, walking through the lab.

I sheepishly looked up at the man, looking around the room appraisingly. I'm not sure  _why_. The only stocked lab station was by the window, and it was the epicenter of the black streaks that came from the explosion that had occurred minutes earlier.

"What  _were_  you trying to accomplish, exactly?" The man asked, looking at a half-charred notebook on the lab station.

"I-I was trying to-to-uh..." I gulped loudly and tugged on the end of my blonde braid. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"I—I was trying to synthesize a chemical mixture. There-There was an electrical component…" I trailed off, looking at the blackened walls again.

The man nodded and continued to look at my charred notebook. Putting the hand with the file back behind his back, my curiosity didn't let me  _not_  look at the name.

_Brightman, Annabelle J._

Confused as to why this old German man had my New York State University file, I spoke up again. "Uh...Sir?" I asked hesitantly.

"Hm?—Oh, pardon me," he said, leaving my desk. "I never introduced myself. Dr. Abraham Erskine."

"Anna," I said, taking the hand he held out.

"Yes, yes I know who you are," Dr. Erskine admitted, that knowing look on his face.

"You have my file." I pointed out, gripping the strap of my bag tightly.

"Yes," Dr. Erskine said simply. "Yes I do."

"... _Why_?" I asked slowly. The name 'Erskine' seemed all too familiar.

"Miss Brightman, is there a reason someone with your test scores and intellect is going to a school such as this? Why not…eh… _Cornell_  or  _Colombia_?" He asked. "You _were_ accepted, were you not?"

I shrugged. "I'm the youngest in a family with nine children and one parent. A place like Columbia, even with scholarships, is too expensive. I'm paying for all of this on my own, too. My father just wants me to go be a school teacher or a housewife somewhere."

"What if you  _could_  go to a university like that?" Dr. Erskine ask me.

I blinked a few times. "I-I'd say it's a bit early," I stuttered out, implying he was drunk.

The doctor chuckled and shook his head. "Miss Brightman, I have an offer for you."

"What kind of offer?" I asked skeptically, narrowing my eyes.

"Have you heard of the  _SSR_? The Strategic Scientific Reserve?" Dr. Erskine asked me. I shook my head.

"Well, I guess you wouldn’t have." He sighed. "They are having me put together a team for a project, Codename: ' _Rebirth_.'"

I nodded, showing I understood.

"They gave me a list of students, vetted and competent of helping with the lab work involved with the project," the doctor continued.

Then, it seemed to make sense why he had my academic file.

"S-Sir, there-there must be other students-from  _better_  schools-who would be a better choice-" I started to ramble.

"Perhaps," Dr. Erskine said, shrugging ever-so-slightly. "But none of the have written over a dozen papers in the subject."

"They were never published," I muttered sadly.

"Oh," Dr. Erskine chuckled. "That wouldn't stop the SSR from finding them."

Taken aback, I just stared at the doctor. "I-I'm  _honored_  that you would consider me-"

"Oh no, Miss Brightman, I  _chose_  you," Dr. Erskine corrected me.

"- _Choose_  me," I repeated, getting back to my point. "But I have to decline.”

The doctor looked at me, almost confused.

"I-I've worked  _really_  hard to get a scholarship here, and I'm almost-"

Dr. Erskine cut me off again. "You have been attending this school for tree years for a degree, and are only half way through. But…I'm sure the SSR could manage you a doctorate from one of the more… _prestigious_ , schools in New York."

My eyes widened, I was at a loss.

"I-I-"  _can't think of a reason to say no_. "What's the project?"

* * *

I had my hands up on the table, my nails tapping against my glass nervously. I knew I didn't have to be nervous, but I was. This wasn’t the type of place I go to, not anymore. I looked so out of place in my plain beige skirt and white blouse. My hands kept reaching under the table to run my fingers over a small run in my stockings. Barely noticeable, but the small imperfection made me anxious.

I'd been good about not touching my hair, a habit I had since I was little; when I was nervous, I played with my hair. Pulling the tight curls down and letting them bounce back in place, tucking it behind my ears, taking parts out from behind my ears, things like that.

My father hated it, thought it made me look constantly nervous and skittish. The again, around my father I  _was_  constantly nervous and skittish.

I wished Billy would have picked somewhere else to meet. He'd picked a bar not far from the apartment we grew up in. It was all dark wood, soft leather and the newest music. Billy and I used to come here all the time. The first thing he did when I turned 21 was take me here and order me one glass of every type of wine they had. He claimed it was so he would know what kind to buy me for my birthday and Christmas, but I think he just wanted me to get drunk. I didn't. I wasn't a big fan of alcohol.

" _Anna_ ," I heard my older brother, Billy, say fondly. Then a hand came down on my shoulder and squeezed. My nose scrunched up in annoyance as he kissed the top of my head.

"How 'ya been sissy?" he asked as he sat across from me at the table.

"Alright." I sighed, glancing back to the table as a waitress came over to take Billy's drink order.

"Aren't you gonna ask about dad?" Billy asked, leaning back in his chair once the waitress left to get his whisky.

"How is he," I said flatly. It wasn't even a question, just a bored statement.

Billy laughed once, just a little breath out his nose as he shook his head. He winked at the waitress as she brought his drink. He took a sip, then let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I don't really care either."

"What about the rest of us?" I asked him, trying to sound casual, but I wanted to know about my brothers. I had my fingers on the stem of my wine glass, spinning it on my napkin. 'The rest of us' was a term Billy and I used to refer to our 5 older siblings.

"Fine. Jim and John are working at dad's practice now. Greg is so panicked about, well,  _everything_ —you know Greg—that he's staying with Aunt Macy in Montreal. Kevin’s in the Navy, he enlisted last week." I listened intently as Billy went through our brothers. "And Henry's trying to get into medical school, fast. Doesn't want to go over."

I nodded, spinning my wine glass again. "What about you?"

Billy stopped spinning his whisky and looked up at me with a guilty look in his eye. He set his tumbler down on the coaster and put a hand into his expensive jacket. He pulled out some folded papers and set them on the table between us.

My gaze narrowed and I snatched the papers up, reading them quickly.

"The-The  _Army Air Corps_?" I hissed at him, shocked. Billy looked intently at his whisky.

 "What-What about your job at dad's practice?" Billy was a promising young doctor on his way to being a partner at our dad's practice, even though he was only 22, and had two older brothers over him

"What-What about— _Damnit_ , Billy what about  _me_?" I asked, my lower lip trembling.

Billy kept looking at his drink, spinning the ice around again. "Only a matter of time before they really start drafting guys. Not cut out for the trenches…Sides, dad was a medic."

"Yeah," I scoffed. "And he's  _definitely_  a man to strive to be like." Billy gave me a slight disapproving look as he took another sip of whisky. I looked down at the wine glass in front of me; I’d hardly had two sips.

"Why didn't you tell me you were even thinking about this?" I asked, folding his papers back up, stuffing them back into the envelope so I didn’t have to look at them.

"'Cause I knew you'd look at me like that. With those sad eyes 'ya got," he said teasingly, although his face looked sheepish.

We sat in silence, letting the noise of the bar fill it.

"What'd you wanna talk to me about? Sounded bad on the phone," Billy said a few minutes later.

I took a sip of my wine, wrinkling my nose at the taste, before answering.

"You know how I wanted to go to Colombia for my chemistry degree?" Billy nodded. "Couldn't go 'cause I couldn't afford it…I-I have an…opportunity, to get my degree from Colombia."

"Really? That's great Anna!" Billy said, grinning at me. He looked _so_ proud.

"But, I wouldn't be going there, not-not  _really_ ," I peeked up at his now confused expression. "I can't talk about it much, but this doctor came to me. Said I could get my degree by assisting on a project for the Army."

"Wow…" Billy trailed off, smiling.

"Hey, why do you look sad?" He asked me, giving my shin a light kick under the table.

"This is for the  _Army_ , Billy! One stupid mistake by me could put people's lives in danger!" I said in a hushed whisper.

"Yeah," Billy said with a dismissive shrug. "But, Anna, if you  _do_  it, you could  _save_  lives."


	2. Chapter 2

I ducked my head as I heard yet another whistle in my direction.

"Hey sweetheart! You lost?" One particularly loud voice shouted at me.

I just sucked in a breath, tried to keep my head high, and continued walking. I tightened my grip on the armful of files I was carrying as I followed Dr. Erskine, who was talking to Colonel Phillips.

"Doctor, are you sure having…" The colonel trailed off, but glanced over his shoulder at me, before continuing. "For a  _lab assistant_ -let alone on a damn  _army_ base-is the best idea?"

"Colonel, of all the approved applicants you gave me, she is the one I chose. She was the brightest mind I met with, and the only one to understand the basis of the formula." Dr. Erskine said simply. "Did you wish for me to have picked another?"

I couldn't help but feel a little proud when he said that.

The name 'Erskine'  _had_  sounded familiar to me, and for a good reason; I had studied the doctor's early work last year, even referenced them in some of my papers.

I'd been going to New York State University for a degree in chemistry and genetics. Normally, any (male) student could get that degree in six years, four if they took accelerated courses like I did. I'd been enrolled since I was 19. I was 22 now, and  _barely_  half way there. Dr. Erskine said that if I agreed to be his lab assistant for the foreseeable future, he'd use connections he apparently had to get me a full doctorate in chemistry from Columbia University.

"Miss Brightman," Dr. Erskine called, gaining my attention. "Please bring the files to the lab, Colonel Phillips will have your trunk brought to your quarters." He gestured to a small, cabin like building not unlike the others around it.

"Yes sir!" I called out, them already being a ways away. The doctor may be older in years, but that  _certainly_  didn't mean he was any slower.

"Ok, _lab_..." I mumbled to myself as I struggled to get the map I'd been given at the gate. The New Jersey training camp wasn't especially big, but it was very confusing for someone who was more used to the grid-like Manhattan, like I was. The lab was marked with a large X, but finding where I was  _now_  was the camp was the difficult part. The continuous whistles and comments certainly didn't help me either.

"Left at the barracks, third concrete building on the right." I said quietly to myself, nodding once before I stuffed the map into the pocket of my sweater and quickly started on the path towards the bunks.

"Hey sweetheart! Want some help with those files? Won't cost 'ya much!"

"How 'bout you twirl a few times for us darlin'!"

"C'mon! It's hot out! Take off a layer or two doll face!"

I gritted my teeth and kept walking, keeping my gaze ahead and my chin up. I didn't even move the blonde curl that had managed its way out of the bun the rest of my hair was in. Not that I could have fixed it anyway; I needed both arms to carry the files and notes.

I'd begun to completely tune out the cat calls and whistles, but a sharp, raunchy smack on my butt from one of the passing men made me squeal and jump.

I tripped over my own two feet and dropped the files so I could use both hands to break my fall. There were a few gasps, but more laughs than anything, but what really stood out to me was the sound of someone running on the gravel, then skidding to a stop in front of me.

"You ok?" I heard a voice ask, clearly concerned.

I was on my stomach on the gravel, my cheek inches from smashing into the stones, which were currently digging into my palms.

"Yeah-I mean  _yes_ , I'm fine," I said quickly, starting to get up. I felt a large hand on my elbow and another on my forearm, attempting to help me up.

"I'm  _fine_!" I all but snapped, shaking the hands off as I stood. After smoothing my skirt and fixing that stray curl bun, I looked up, and saw a man, my age, with dark hair and blue eyes standing in front of me. I felt a little bad now, snapping at him like that. He seemed genuinely concerned.

He was glaring over my shoulder. "Sorry about them," he said, looking back at me, putting his hands lazily in the pockets of his standard issue kelly green pants. He'd taken off the oversized shirt/jacket and tied it around his waist, so on top he was in a plain white t-shirt with his dog tags over his collar.

"It's alright," I mumbled, looking away from the handsome recruit and knelt down to gather up the armfuls of papers. I began frantically shoving them into folders. “Oh…Oh Dr. Erskine's gonna be mad…I'll _never_ get all'a these in the right order again.

"It's  _not_  'alright', by the way," the man said as he knelt down next to me, picking up papers.

"Dame like you, in a camp full'a guys who haven't seen a real live breathing female in over two months, 'yuh should be treated like a friggen' princess," he muttered quietly, almost to himself. But it was enough to make me blush, and look at him with a slightly stunned look. Which, of course, he saw. He just gave me a slightly sheepish grin paired with a shrug, then handed me some papers. With his help, I was able to get all of the doctor's papers back, and mostly in order.

"Uh…Thank you," I said, fixing that runaway curl once more before reaching for the armful of files the man in front of me was holding.

"Where you headed?" He asked me, moving the files he had just out of my reach.

"Uh…Doctor-Dr. Erskine's lab," I got out. I could hold a conversation with people as well as anyone, but when 'people' was male and had pretty blue eyes, it definitely hindered that abiliy.

"That the new building? By the barracks?" He asked, his face contorting the slightest in confusion; his eyebrows pulled together a little and his head even titled minutely to one side.

"Uh…Yeah—Yes it is," I said quickly.

"Then what are you doing over here? Barracks are on the north side," he explained, looking at me as he tried to hide his amusement.

"No…No the barracks are down there to the left, right?" I asked, nodding down the path I was walking on.

"No, that would be the mess hall," the man said, holding half of my files in one hand while the other was back lazily in his pocket. He looked like he was really trying to hold back an amused expression now.

"What? No, no that can't be right," I said with a frown, struggling to pull my map out of my pocket.

"This is the lab," I pointed to the X. "And these are the barracks, so I need to keep going the direction I am."

"Well, yeah," he said, quickly analyzing the map, then quietly clearing his throat. "But your map also goes…" He reached forward and turned my map so the top was now at the bottom. " _That_  way."

"Oh," I said quietly, feeling  _stupid_.

" _Oh_ ," he repeated, slightly mocking.

"Well, uh, thank you for helping me get my papers, and for showing me that I was walking the wrong way," I reached for the files in his arm, but he moved his arm away, a small smile that was more like a half-smirk.

"Hey! Now, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't make sure a lady like yourself got to where she needed to be safe and sound?" He asked rhetorically. He still had the charming half-smirk on his face.

I wasn't really keen on the idea of walking with a man through a military training base. But,  _this_  man _had_ helped me get my papers and showed me I'd been looking at the map wrong. I sighed and looked up at him. "You're not going to give me my files unless I let you walk me to the lab, are you?"

He just shrugged, the half-smirk on his face. "Well, it really is your best option at this point."

I sighed, then pulled my bottom lip between my teeth to gnaw on it as I thought.

 "Uh, this way you said?" I asked, turning slightly and nodding towards the way I'd just come from.

"Ladies first," he said, dramatically holding his free arm out and motioning for me to go. Ducking my head slightly, I started walking, the man falling into step next to me.

"So, what's a young lady like yourself doin' on an army base in the first place?" He asked me, running his free hand through his hair carelessly as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

I took a deep breath before answering; buying time. Dr. Erskine told me that the project was top secret and to tell no one. But I was a  _terrible_  liar.

"I'm a lab assistant," I said honestly. He looked a little surprised. He was probably expecting me to be a _secretary_ or something. "I'm helping the doctor with a…project."

"Then, you  _must_  be good at what you do," he said as we turned a corner. I thought about his words, and as I did, the less and less I liked what he was implying.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, a little more attitude in my voice than before. The only thing I really didn't tolerate from people,  _especially_  men, was taunts or belittlements of my intelligence; it was the one thing I was proud of. He quickly looked back at me, his eyes widened a little as he realized how his words could be interpreted, and probably stunned at my suddenly venomous words.

"This is the lab," I said, stopping him from speaking again. I quickly dug my ID card out of my pocket, pausing to clip it onto my blouse, and walked to the door.

"Miss Brightman!" I heard the doctor call. "Where have you been? I expected you here five minutes ago." He wasn't necessarily angry, I'd say he sounded more worried.

"I'm sorry sir, I-I got lost," I admitted sheepishly.

"You, what's your name, private?" The colonel asked the man who was carefully handing me the rest of my files.

"Barnes, sir," he answered, straightening up a little but keeping his free hand lazily in his pocket.

"Shouldn't you be in the mess hall, private?" The colonel asked, well, it was more like half asking-sternly, half-barking.

"Was on my way, sir. Some'a the other boys where giving Miss Brightman here some unwanted attention. I wanted to make sure she got where she needed to without incident," _Private Barnes_ said smoothly. I was a little impressed; on the spot like that and coming up with a smooth, calm answer.

The Colonel glanced and me as Private Barnes handed me the rest of the files, and I held in a groan when a few men from a passing group whistled in my direction.

"Thank you, Private Barnes," the doctor spoke up. "You can return to the mess hall."

"Yes sir," he said with a nod to the doctor and colonel.

“Ma'am," he said to me, his lips quirking into the slightest smile as he nodded towards me before spinning on a heel and walking away. My gaze followed him as he left. He looked over his shoulder and saw I was watching. He gave me a grin, and sent a wink my way. I blushed.

I took a deep breath before turning to Dr. Erskine and smiling the slightest bit as I followed him into the lab. "Sorry, about being late

"Was there a problem?" He asked, taking a file I was holding and frowning a little, no doubt at the out-of-order pages.

"Some of these men think that a woman on this base means a free-for-all," I muttered, dropping the files on a table.

" _Ah_ …" the doctor said, taking off his hat. "Well, I hope you can grow a thick skin."

"I grew up in a house  _full_  of boys. I haven't been in that environment for a while, but it'll come back to me," I sighed, shrugging out of my sweater.

The doctor shook his head, chuckling a little at me. "You are a very interesting young woman, _Fräulein_ _Brightman_."

" _Danke_ ," I answered quietly, smiling a little as I pulled on the lab coat I'd been given (it even had my name stitched on the front pocket). I saw Dr. Erskine smile a little when I answered him in the little bit of German I'd picked up from him in the last few days.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?"


	3. Chapter 3

I've never been in a lab where the people (the _men_ ) actually trusted me to do the simplest tasks. They  _knew_  that I was there because Dr. Erskine chose _me_ , and that he trusted me and my abilities in the lab. I wasn't an aspiring student who was trying to get the professor's attention.

I was here to help the doctor with the chemistry aspect of the project, but that didn't mean I wasn't involved in the more medical side. I had a little prior knowledge about basic medicine, with my father being a doctor and all, but I had a lot to learn. One of the army doctors on the project, Dr. Peter Mathews, or 'Dr. Matt' as everyone calls him, offered to give me a little extra help. I was a fast learner, and he told me that with a little hard work I could get a good grasp on the more physical side of medicine.

I also learned a little more about the SSR to. Of all people,  _Howard Stark_  was a part of it—apparently a  _big_  part. Dr. Erskine said that I'd meet him later, and that he— _Howard Stark_ —was eager to meet the _me_. It all took me a few seconds to process; last week I was going to school full time and working part-time at a dinner, now I was getting a doctorate from a prestigious school and  _Howard Stark_  was looking forward to  _meeting_   _me_.

I also met Agent Carter, or Peggy as she told me to call her, who I would be sharing quarters with here on the base. She was more involved in the operations side of the SSR, but she was happy to have another woman to talk to. She was nice, a little closed off maybe, but then again so was I. We’d get along fine.

* * *

It was my third day and I was sitting on the steps of the lab with a book in my lap as I leaned against the building. Most of Dr. Erskine's research and notes where in German, so he'd been translating and rewriting all of them. I thought it'd be easier for me to learn German, than for him to translate years and years of research. So, I’d requested a basic German language book and got one immediately. When a man in a suit came to the lab and said the government would ‘get us whatever we need to complete the project,’ he wasn’t kidding.

"Hey! Brightman, right?"

I looked up at the sound of my name and saw a dark haired man jogging towards me. It was only once he was closer that I recognized him as Private Barnes. He came to a stop at the side concrete steps, lousy crossing his arms and bringing them over the edge of the step below me.

"Hello," I said simply. He sent me another one of those charming, smug half-smiles. It was the second thing I noticed, though. The first thing I noticed was a dark ring around his eye, and a dark line across the left side of his bottom lip; a  _black eye_  and a healing  _split lip_. He didn't have  _those_  two days ago.

"I just wanted to apologize, for what I said before,” he said, looking genuinely sorry. "The, uh, the 'then you must be good at what you do' thing."

"It's alright, private," I sighed, taking a bite of my apple. I couldn't keep my eyes off the bruises on his face, and, unfortunately, he caught me looking at them.

"You should see the other guy,” he said, his smirk growing as he raked his hand though his hair again, even though it was already neat and better looking than those of the other men. He reached over his head at the iron hand rail. He managed to pull himself up, and turn himself around so his feet dangled over the side of the steps.

"You know, I don't know your first name," he said, like it was some large injustice.

"I don't know yours," I recanted, shrugging a little.

"I asked first,” the private challenged, that half-smirk back on his face.

"I asked second," I retorted, looking back at my book. I grew up with  _eight_  brothers, I could go on like this all day.

"Ladies first," he said, his eyes narrowing a little, that smirk growing a little.

"The  _lady_  insists," I said, a  _little_  louder. I wanted to be left _alone_. I'd been having men come up to me more times in the last two days than my entire life; the whole thing was testing my nerves, was a cheese grater on my manners, and made me supremely uncomfortable.

Private Barnes laughed a little, shaking his head the slightest.

"Bucky," he finally sighed. "Call me Bucky."

I nodded once, quickly wiping my chin when apple juice from the bite I just took ran down my chin. "I’m Anna."

"Nice to put a name with the face," he said, still half-smirking. Those cerulean blue eyes had a charming sparkle in them that made me lips twitch, threatening to smile.

"Same," I mumbled, looking back in my book. It was silent for a few moments, but I didn't hear him leave. I peeked up and saw him, one hand behind him to prop him up, just smiling at me like he was waiting for me to say something.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked slowly, closing my book, but keeping my thumb within the pages to keep my place.

"Where are you from?" Bucky asked curiously.

"What?" I asked in response. "Why do you want to know that?"

"Just tryin' to make conversation,” he said innocently. I frowned a little and picked at the binding of the book in my lap.

"Ok, ok, I can take a hint." I heard Bucky sigh. I looked up and saw him grab the railing again and swing his body off the step with surprising ease and swiftness.

"It's was a pleasure to meet you, Anna Brightman,” he said genuinely, putting his hands back in his pockets as he smiled up at me. Bucky nodded once before starting back towards the road.

"Manhattan!” I blurted out, making the man look over his shoulder.

"Come again?" He asked, walking back towards me a few steps.

"Manhattan…I'm from Manhattan," I explained, giving him a small smile.

His half-smirk grew. "Annie Brightman, the lab assistant from Manhattan."

"Ann **a** ," I corrected him.

"Ann _ie_ ," he said teasingly over his shoulder, walking back to the road.

"Who where you talking to?" Peggy asked behind me. I jumped in surprise, quickly getting up and brushing off the back of my skirt.

"I thought you were in a meeting until 12:30, that's why I was sitting on the steps," I said, mildly upset that I was sitting on a hard step. I quickly checked my watch. "For _45_ _minutes_."

"Meeting ended early. Who was that young man you were talking to?" Peggy answered in one breath, looking after Bucky, who had caught up with his friend, going by the friendly shoves and laughs they shared once he joined them again.

I shrugged. "He helped me out yesterday."

Peggy nodded, looking after Bucky…like I was. "He's quite handsome." Peggy pointed out.

I shrugged. "I-I guess he's kinda  _cute_ …" I hugged my book to my chest and turned to go back into the lab.

I was very aware that I was lying to myself.

He was  _very_  handsome. 


	4. Chapter 4

I bit into my apple as I walked to the lab, looking down at the open book in my hand.

An acquaintance (she wasn't really a friend, per say) had sent me a book she had borrowed a few months back. It was my favorite;  _Through the Looking Glass_ , my favorite work of Lewis Carroll.

"Watch out!" Someone said behind me, as two hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to the left, out of the way of a truck that was going down the road. Dropping my apple, I pressed my open book to my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"You alright, Annie?" At the nickname, I spun around and saw none other than Bucky Barnes looking down at me with concerned eyes.

"Yeah-Yeah—No, I mean  _yes_ , I'm alright," I got out, book still pressed to my chest and watching the truck that would have clipped me and sent me into the ditch.

That surprisingly charming half-smirk made an appearance on his face as he rocked back on his heels, hands back in his pockets. He nodded at the book I was reading. "Whatcha' readin'?"

"Oh, uh, Lewis Carroll," I said offhandedly, looking at the watch on my wrist. "Thank you, for, uh…" I trailed off, shrugging a little as Bucky continued to stare at me with that casual smirk and bright blue eyes.

"Anyway, I have to get to the lab," I finally finished, sending him a shaky smile before I turned away.

"Lewis Carroll, he wrote Alice in Neverland, right?" I heard Bucky ask. I turned, expecting him a few feet behind me, but almost jumped and let out a yelp when he was walking next to me. It was strange, he wore the same kelly green training uniform the other men wore (today, the jacket/shirt was on him properly, unlike the previous two times I'd seen him, but unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his dogtags tucked under the white t-shirt he had on), but it just looked _so much better_ on _him_.

"Alice in  _Wonderland_ ," I corrected him. I let my arms drop to my sides, one going behind my back to hold the elbow of the other. "Neverland is from J. M. Barrie's  _Peter_   _Pan_."

"Oh, right, right, right," Bucky nodded, looking ahead again. "Never did well in English class." He added with a crooked half-smile and a shrug.

I wondered if he was even listening, but I spoke anyway. "English was my favorite subject, after science."

I looked up when Bucky chuckled. "Why am I not surprised?" He asked, glancing at me with playful eyes and that half-smirk. I just shrugged again and looked at my shoes as I walked.

"What was your favorite class in school?" I asked. I may not be the best at holding conversations with good looking men, but now was as good a time as any to get better.

"I dunno, I liked PE, I guess," Bucky said with a shrug. His face contorting slightly as he thought. "Didn't like siting in class rooms that much, I like to be moving around, doing something. When I was a kid, the school nurse said I probably had AD…AD-Something-or-other, I don't remember, wasn't really listening."

I almost giggled as he talked, but bit the inside of my cheek.

"I took an art class one year, wasn't that bad, I guess. We got to walk around Central Park to sketch,” he continued, glancing at me.

"I think I ended up jumping into a ball game though, never finished my picture," Bucky added as an afterthought, grinning.

"I tried to take a couple of art classes, in high school and college. I'm better in a lab or a library than a studio," I said, growing more comfortable talking with Bucky as I walked towards the lab with him.

"Library? You read a lot, then," he deducted out loud.

I sheepishly nodded and looked down at my book. "Yeah…Lewis Carroll's my favorite author, my older brother used to read me  _Alice_   _in_   _Wonderland_  before I went to bed." Bucky nodded, looking ahead again. "Have-Have you ever read any of his work?"

Bucky’s face split into a bashful grin as he looked at the ground. “Not much of a reader…I know the story, though—Alice in Wonderland, I mean…”

He seemed embarrassed as he trailed off, but it was gone in a second. The half-smirk was back as he looked at me. “So, does a smart girl like Annie Brightman have any reading suggestions for a kid who almost flunked out of his eleventh grade English class?"

"The barracks get a little boring sometimes,” Bucky added when I gave him a questioning look.

"Don't sell yourself short,” I said before I could stop myself. He looked at me, slightly surprised, with his eyebrows slightly raised, like he was waiting for an explanation. "I mean, I'm  _sure_  you didn't fail English class."

"Hey,  _almost_  failed," he corrected me, taking a hand out of his pocket to point a finger at me teasingly.

"Sorry. I'm sure you didn't  _almost_  fail English." I repeated, looking ahead.

"And, yeah- _Yes_ , yes…I do have a few ideas of what you might like," I said a moment later, looking up at Bucky. He looked down at me expectantly.

"Uh, here," I said, stopping off to the side of the road as I held out my copy of  _Through the Looking Glass_  

"I think you'd like the Jabberwocky," I added as he took it, looking over the front before flipping it over to look at the back.

" _Jabberwocky_ …That even a word?" He mumbled, turning the book back to look at the front cover.

"It's a good poem," I said stupidly, after a moment or two. He glanced up at me, a doubtful look in his eyes. I blushed furiously and looked intently at my shoes. “Read it, take your time, get the book back to me when you're done."

Bucky’s smirk flickered into a real smile briefly as he tucked the book under his arm and put his hand back in his pocket lazily. "Thanks, Annie,” he said, it sounded genuine. And the sound of a genuine thanks coming from this handsome being in front of me made my heart jump and stutter.

I nodded, before glancing over my shoulder at the lab. "I have to go," I said finally, after I quietly cleared my throat.

"See 'ya 'round Annie!" Bucky called as I got to the lab doors.

As I shut the doors, I tossed my apple core into a waste basket and pulled my lab coat from the hook by the doors. I looked up and saw Peggy looking at me with a small smile and narrowed eyes.

"What?" I asked, feeling a little self-conscious from her staring.

"You tell me,  _Annie,_ " she said, her smile growing a little. I rolled my eyes a little and walked to my lab station, praying that name wouldn't catch on.

* * *

 Omniscient POV

After dinner one night, while the other men in barrack C played cards, or told stories about their sweethearts in the city, Bucky was on his bunk reading.

"C'mon pal, join the fun!" Matt, a kid from Staten Island, called as he tossed a pair of dirty, wadded up socks at the concentrating brunet two bunks away.

"Ew! Gross, Matty!" Bucky said loudly once the sweaty socks hit his face.

"What  _are_  you?  _Twelve_?" He said in retaliation as he threw the socks back.

"I wanna hear more about those New York dames you knew," David said with a boyish grin. He was a legacy kid from somewhere in Rhode Island; his dad was in the Army, all his uncles where in the Army, his grand-dad was in the Army, and so on all the way back to the Revolutionary War. Bucky thought he was a nice guy, but he didn't think he was cut out for war. Physically, he sure as hell was built for it at 6'1", at least a buck-ninety and he was one of the best on the training course. But mentally? The guy was just too  _nice_.

"I'm busy,” Bucky said simply, laying back on his bunk, feet propped up on the metal bars of his bunk's headboard.

"Hey, what the hell does  _manxome_ mean?" He asked a few moments later.

"What?" One of Bucky's other new-found friends asked.

"Is it even a word?" Bucky continued, his face screwing up as he looked at the pages of the book he had held over his head as he lay on his back. "Doesn't  _sound_  like a real word,” he muttered. If there was ever a time Bucky needed Steve to be in the Army, it'd be now; so he could  _explain_  this  _damn_  poem to him.

"Why are you reading a book anyway?" Matt asked.

"You know, I think this is the stillest and quietest I've ever seen him," Oliver, another cadet, leaned over and said to David, who nodded in agreement. They'd all come here at the same time; three weeks ago, and they were probably right "Think he's sick?"

"I'm not  _sick_ , you morons," Bucky grumbled, starting to read the poem over again, for the fourth or fifth time. He could feel his friend's eyes on him, when he looked towards them, he saw all six men staring at him. Bucky sighed and sat up, closing the book but keeping his thumb in it to mark his page.

"Alright," he sighed again. "You know that girl, the one working as a lab assistant for that doctor?"

"The blonde?"

" _Of_   _course_  we know her!"

"I'd like to get to know her a little better, if you know what I mean."

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head at the last comment, courtesy of Jeffery, a kid from Queens who  _really_  needed to go out the next night they had leave.

"Yeah, her," Bucky said, a little flatter and harsher than he meant to. "Anyway, she gave me this, there's a poem she thought I'd like, and it makes  _no_   _sense_."

"You actually got that dame to  _talk_?" Matt asked, surprised, and in slight awe of the man. "Half the guys here have tried to strike up conversation with her, she just _keeps walking_."

"How'd  _you_  get her to talk?" Another voice asked. Having laid back on his bunk, Bucky looked up at the voice and his eyes narrowed slightly.

Andrew Gallagher. The jerk that had smacked sweet little Annie Brightman on the behind a week ago. And given Bucky a black eye and a split lip after he got to the mess hall after walking Anna to the lab.

"Hey there Gallagher. How's the rib treatin' 'ya?" Bucky asked casually, going back to the poem.

"How'd a little punk like you get with a lady like that?" Gallagher demanded, crossing his arms.

"Maybe she prefers punks to pervs," Bucky mused, glancing up at the guy towering over him on his bunk oh-so-casually.

"You little-" Gallagher started to threated, but cut off in a wheezing yelp when Bucky reached back and swatted the rib he was pretty sure he'd cracked a week ago.

" _Scram,_ " Bucky said lowly, sending the man his sharpest glare.

* * *

 "So, it's about a kid killing the jabberwocky thing, right?" Bucky asked the man sitting across from him at breakfast the next morning.

" _Well_ ," Percy, the man across from him, started. His face screwed up in thought as he tried to think of an easy way to explain the poem. He was a little distracted, not used to having someone like Bucky Barnes (the suave, charming, able-to-throw-a-punch and probably-gonna-be-promoted-real-fast type of person) asking him to explain  _poetry_. The only reason Percy was in the Army in the first place was that he couldn't get a teaching job and his wife was pregnant.

"Yes, but it's more than that," Percy started to explain.

"You get that the jabberwocky is a terrible menace to the village the boy and his father live in, right?" He asked, getting a nod from Bucky as he bit into a pear. "Although Carroll doesn't specifically tell you, you know by reading the poem that the boy killing the monster was a heroic act.”

"At the end of the poem, the boy brings the head of the jabberwocky back to his father and the rest of his village where the boy is celebrated for the wonderful thing he's done for the people of the village. Due to the death of the jabberwocky, the world inside the village changed forever," Percy explained. Inside, he was patting himself on the back for his skills. Bucky, on the other hand, was nodding slowly, still holding the pear.

"So…It's about a kid killing the jabberwocky thing," he said slowly.

"Well, yes," Percy admitted with a sigh.

"Ok, but look here," he turned the book towards Bucky. "The opening and closing stanzas are the same."

Bucky gave him a look that sort of said ‘ _And..?_ ’

"It could be, and widely is, interpreted that it means that even though the boy did the amazing thing of killing the jabberwocky, it really didn't have much effect on the world. The toves, borogroves, and raths and the other monsters in their world sill roam around, unchanged, and don't know or care about the changes in the boy or the village," Percy said.

Bucky nodded, his eyebrows furrowing together as he considered what Percy was saying, and cursing himself for staring out the window all the time in all his English classes. "Ok, ok I think I get it,” he said finally, just as breakfast ended.

"Thanks pal." Bucky said with a grin, smacking Percy on the back, not noticing how he almost knocked the man over in doing so, as he left to get dressed to run the course with the rest of the cadets. 


	5. Chapter 5

"Good night, Miz Brightman," Dr. Erskine said as he put on his hat at the door.

" _Gute Nacht_ ," I called over my shoulder as I took my lab coat off. Once it was replaced by my sweater, gathered my things and left the lab. As I walked to my quarters, I was looking down in my bag, checking to see if I had all my files and notes with me.

" _Annie Brightman_." I heard someone say. I looked up, raking my fingers through my hair, pushing back a few blonde curls, as I met eyes with a tall, broad shouldered brunet.

"Bucky Barnes," I said, trying to match his playful tone, but his name came out in a more surprised squeak. Bucky was leaning on the side of the lab, this time not wearing the kelly green training outfit, but regular civilian clothes; slacks, a jacket, a button-up shirt and tie; a  _crooked_  tie.

"Brought this, thought you'd want it back," Bucky said, pulling the book I'd lent him out from the inner pocket of his jacket and holding it out to me.

"Oh, thanks," I said, taking it. Bucky had had it for a few days—Not that I minded, but I had to admit that I missed Lewis Carroll.

"So, what'd you think?" I asked, peeking up at him.

Half-smirking, he shrugged. "Took me a read or two, but once I got it I didn't mind it…Read a few others, too. I see why you like his stuff.”

I nodded a little, looking down at the book.

"So, us fella's and I have leave tonight," Bucky announced with a grin. "Gonna go out to see if Jersey is really as bad as they say."

"Oh," I said, unsure what to say. "Well, have fun."

He nodded, fixing his hair (even though it was already neat and combed). "So, does the lab assistant from Manhattan get to leave this pit now and then?"

I looked up at him curious and confused.

"'Cause I heard about this new place in the city…Supposed to have a great band," he said, rocking back on his heels as he half-smirked down at me, and watched me with smoldering cerulean eyes.

I looked up at him with wide eyes, my heart hammering, completely unsure of what to do. So, instead of asking  _what_  he was asking me, I said "Your tie is crooked."

Bucky chuckled once, just a breath through his nose paired with a grin as he looked down to the red fabric around his neck. "No it's not," he said, smoothing it with one hand.

"Yes, it is," I retorted.

Bucky frowned, leaned his head back and looked down at his chest as he fiddled with the knot by his throat. "'Kay then, how about now?"

I shook my head, almost smiling. "You made it worse, actually."

"You know what, it looks fine to me," Bucky proclaimed. "If you think it's crooked,  _you_  can fix it."

Not sure if he was teasing me or not, I tucked the book into my bag and reached up to fix his tie. He was half-smirking, half-smiling, down at me as I fixed the crooked tie. I used to do this with my brothers and father all the time. I peeked up at him once, and when I looked back down, my hands were shaking a bit.

" _There_ ," I said quietly, my hands hesitating over the knot briefly, then smoothed the lapels of his jacket before letting them drop to my sides.

"Thanks," Bucky said, that half-smirk still on his face. It was a little softer now though.

"Well, it-it's getting late…I-I…" I wasn't sure what to say, so I just gave Bucky an awkward smile before quickly turning and walking to my quarters.

* * *

I had my cheek in my hand, elbow braced on my desk as I looked down at the letter I had just read.

The quarters I shared with Peggy where small. There was a little love seat and chair in the front, a kitchenette behind it and a small two-seat table. My bed and trunk where in the corner, and, separated by a dressing screen, was Peggy's bed and trunk. The door to the bathroom was across from our beds, and a shared wardrobe next to it; she had half the rail inside, and I had the other half, and we each had a drawer.

"Hello Anna," Peggy said as she walked through the door. I made a little 'Hm' sound in response.

"Something wrong?" Peggy asked. I could feel the worried look she was giving the back of my head.

I shrugged sadly. "One of my… _few_ , close friends was going to be coming back to New York in a few days. She's been in Sacramentp, where her family lives. Her-Her mom was very sick, so took a semester off to see her. Her mother got better, thank God…but she can't come back."

"Why not?" Peggy asked, walking over to lean on the side of my desk. I didn't say anything for a moment, just gnawing on the inside of my cheek.

"My friend's name is Kiku Manami Hamaski," I said simply. Peggy looked at me sympathetically and put a hand on my shoulder.

"It's just not fair!" I exclaimed, standing suddenly. "She was born in  _Nevada_  for God's sakes! I don't think she's gonna use her job at a  _diner_  to get information that will aid the Japanese troops in destroying America!"

Peggy let me rant on and on about the injustice of it all, how much I missed her and how I could really use her logical, fact-based thinking with the amount of serious decisions I was going to have to make. By the end of it, I was leaning on my desk next to Peggy, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

"She was my only _real_ friend, you know?" I mumbled. "I  _miss_  her."

Peggy nodded and put her arm around my shoulders, squeezing them a little. She put up a tough front to do her job, but when it was just the two of us, Peggy was a great girl. I was quickly beginning to think of her as my friend.

"You know, I heard that the cook in the mess hall is making chocolate chip muffins for the officers' breakfast tomorrow," Peggy pointed out idly. "He's in the mess hall making them right now.”

She sent me a sly, mischievous look which made me smile. We linked arms, and we left our quarters for the mess hall. With my sad eyes and Peggy’s confidence, we could probably swindle a few muffins from the cook.


	6. Chapter 6

I was walking briskly down the path, two tin cups of coffee in my hands.

The coffee maker in the lab broke. I could deal with a very short amount of hot water for a shower, the less than home cooked meals, the leering men, and the constant need to defend myself in the lab from one particularly stubborn man, but  _this_? Having to walk to the mess hall every time the doctor or I needed a cup of coffee? I draw the line there! I am a highly educated, intelligent woman, not a  **damn** _waitress_!

"Hey there sweetheart!"

"How 'bout you and I have an experiment of our own, doll-face!"

"A scientist like you might be interested in the  _fine_   _specimen_  I got!"

"Why don't you let me help you wash the beakers?"

"Help me, wash,  _beakers_?" I repeated slowly, turning to face the group of men I was passing. My stopping and turning towards the men surprised them; I'd been good about keeping my head held high as I ignored them and kept walking. Well, accept Bucky, I guess. If we passed each other, he'd smile or wink at me. Sometimes, he'll just show up outside the lab at the end of the day and walk me to my quarters.

" _Well_ ," the man drawled, a stupid, smug smile on his face. "What else is a pretty little thing like you gonna do in a  _lab_?"

"I'm a collage educated scientist that works with chemicals that would melt your stupid face off," I said, my voice full of childish venom.

" _Really_ ,” he said, walking up to me, his chest less than a foot from mine. Smirking down at me, he grabbed one of the coffee cups from my hands, still staring down at me with cold and condescending eyes, he took a drink.

He made a face, then turned to spit the mouthful of coffee into the dirt. "You'd serve this shit to a  _real_  scientist? Didn't your momma teach you how to make a  _real_  cuppa' coffee for a man?"

I didn't even think. I just acted.

I threw the other cup of coffee in his face.

Stunned with myself, I watched as he stumbled back, cursing from the hot liquid I'd thrown in his eyes.

"If that'll be all?" I said, looking at the other men, all shocked by what I'd just done. I was too, but I tried not to show it. I picked the tin cup the idiot had dropped and started towards the lab again.

"Hey-Where d'you think you're goin'?" The man snapped. A hand wrapping tightly around my upper arm yanked me back. I yelped as I was pulled flush against the man's chest. I tried to use my other arm to push away from him, but he grabbed it and twisted it behind my back. I gasped in pain as the tendons and muscles in my arm screamed in protest.

"Now how 'bout you apologize, hm?" He said lowly, inches from my face. My mind was panicking as the muscles in my arm stretched painfully, and my forearm was twisted at an unnatural angle. All I could do was stare blankly up at the man and try to hide the amount of pain I was in. Fear bubbled up in my throat and kept me from speaking.

"Hey, pal, gotta second?" I heard someone say. The man ignored it, frowning a little as his hard gaze stayed on me.

"Hey! Buddy-" This time I saw a hand tap the man's shoulder.

"Wha-Oof!" The half-snarled reply was cut off when a fist collided with his jaw.

I let out a squeak, managing to push myself out of his grasp. I held my left arm, the one that had been twisted behind my back. I heard the sound of more punches, and my attention flickered from my arm to the sound.

"Just  _get_!" A voice with a noticeable New York accent said, as a dark haired person gave Beaker-Boy a hard shove, making him stumble towards another building.

 _Bucky_.

 _What_   _did he think he was_? My self-declared knight in shining armor?

After he watched the Neanderthal make his way to where ever, Bucky sniffed, ran a hand through his hair and bent down to get the cups off the ground. Shaking the dirt off of them, he walked over to me, slowly; like he wasn't sure if I'd flinch or not.

I didn't.

I never did.

"You alright, Anna?" He asked in a low voice, his eyebrows where pulled together and turned up a little in the middle in concern.

I thought about speaking, even opened my mouth, but I didn't trust my voice not to shake, so I nodded, reaching for the cups Bucky was holding. He pulled them out of my reach with a disbelieving look in his eyes. " _Really_? Why are you holding your arm then?"

I shrugged my good shoulder and reached for the cups again. When he pulled them out of my reach again, my jaw clenched and I sent him a sharp look. "Don't, Bucky." I said in a flat voice.

He  _always_ seemed to do this. I was used to dealing with things like this by myself. I can't say I know Bucky very well, but I don't think that type of person would last long with him; they'd break and tell him what was going on in their heads. That wasn't something I was up to doing right now.

"At least let me walk you back to your quarters,” he bargained, holding the cups out of my reach again, this time over his head. He was a good four inches taller than me, so it wasn't like I could jump up and get them from him.

"My  _quart_ -I-I have to get back to the lab!" I said, suddenly realizing I was  _very_  late by now.

"Uh-uh, you're going to your place to take a rest,” he said, gently putting a hand on the small of my back. I quickly shook it off and gave him another sharp look. Bucky dropped his hand and gave me what I can only describe as an annoyed look.

"Look, the doc  _probably_  already knows about what happened, and he'd probably just send you to your quarters anyway. This way, I get to know that you're safe and sound behind a locked door, and you get to save on some walking. Even the college educated scientist can't argue with that, now come on," Bucky said, his voice was authoritative, but soft and filled with concern and worry at the same time.

Still cradling my sore arm, I dumbly nodded up at Bucky. Linking his pinky finger through the handles of the cups, he put his hands back in his pocket. He had the jacket on this time, unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Did he  _ever_  actually wear the uniform how he was supposed to?

"He's an ass," Bucky said as we walked.

"John," he clarified, jerking his head quickly towards where we had just come from, indicating the man he'd hit. "Had it comin', if not from me, then from some other guy."

I nodded, slowly moving my arm, my face pinching in pain the slightest. I mentally slapped myself for it. My cheek twitched as a group of men whistled. My stomach jumped as I felt Bucky's hand hovering over the small of my back, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to put it there or not. He didn't.

"Why didn't you hit him?" Bucky asked randomly, as we got to the steps of the little cabin. I shrugged, trying to prove that my shoulder was fine, when it was really hurting.

"Hey, make a fist for me," Bucky said, lousy crossing his arms and leaning his side on the side of the building. Frowning, I made a fist with my good hand, holding it up, unsure of  _why_  I was doing this in the first place.

"No no no no _no_ ," Bucky said, shaking his head and standing up from the wall, leaning down to put the tin cups on the wooden steps to the door. I almost jumped when he gently took my wrist in his hand, tugging it towards him while his other hand rearranged my fingers.

"Don't put your thumb  _in_  your fist; you'll hurt your hand,” he explained, wrapping his hand around my newly rearranged fist, tightening my fingers. It was an odd feeling; Bucky holding my hand in both of his. It seemed so small.

"Don't completely clench your fist until the second before you make contact. The nose is always a good place to take a swing at, like the jaw or the throat. All else fails you can always knee the jerk where the sun don't shine," Bucky said, patting my fist lightly with his hand, smiling down at me. It was almost a real smile, but there was still just a hint of a smirk.

I nodded to show I understood and just stared dumbly up at Bucky with a shy smile. I knew he was one of  _those_  people who got a lucky spot on the beauty boat, but I never really just…just  _looked_  at him.

He had a strong jaw and defined cheekbones and full lips. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle, even though there wasn't any light hitting them and were framed with thick, long lashes. I knew from school that people who were considered attractive had more symmetry in their faces. And I think Bucky had the  _best_  symmetry I'd ever seen on a man.

That's also when I noticed the small, barely bleeding mark on his cheek.

"Y-You, uh…" I gestured to his face with the hand I had. His cheek twitched a little, but he just shrugged.

"Its fine, I've had worse,” he admitted, glancing down at my hand, still in his, and gently dropped it. He looked back at me and shrugged. It amazed me how relaxed, content and indifferent he could be about, well, _everything_. I never saw the man frown.

I hesitated, thinking about pressing the issue, but I didn't. I just took my keys out from the pocket of my lab coat and unlocked my door. After opening it and walking in, I left the door open; an invitation for him to come in.

"So, as Dr. Erskine's lab assistant, you get nights off, don’t ‘ya?" Bucky asked, making me look up and over my shoulder. He was leaning his shoulder on the door frame, hands back in his pockets, with an easy smile on his face.

Frowning in confusion, I nodded, turning back to the sink. I'd dug up an old washcloth from the drawers under the sink, and let the water warm up before I held the rag under the stream.

"All I have to do is ask. Why?" I wrung the rag out, so it was damp instead of sopping.

Bucky shrugged, an over emphasized indifferent look on his face.

"Well, you know, I was just wondering…" He trailed off, looking surprised when I walked over to him, the rag in my outstretched hand. He looked at me with those blue eyes that didn't seem to have an end to them and made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, like I'd just had a glass or two of wine.

"Thanks," he said, holding the warm rag to his cheek. Bucky's face twitched again in discomfort, but it was only for a second. He kept eye contact with me for a few seconds, his face losing its usual smugness for a moment. Bucky blinked a few times and cleared his throat, his face gained it'd signature smirk again.

"As I was saying," he continued. "I was just wondering, 'cause that new place I told you about  _does_  have a great band and I have a night'a leave coming up in a week or two, and I don't have a partner."

"A-Are you—You're asking _me_ to go _dancing_?" I asked,  _confused_  more than anything.

"Yes, Annie, I am." Bucky said, almost assuring, as he dropped the washcloth from his face so he could grin at me properly. “I would _really_ like to go dancing with you.”

"Uh…I-I…You-I-I don't dance, Bucky,” I stuttered out, looking down at my feet, fidgeting with my finger nails. "I-I just… _Don't_."

“You don’t dance, or you don’t know how?” He asked with a wink. I bit down on my lip to keep from smiling aand looked away.

"If you're gonna say no, you can go ahead…Won't hurt my feelings." He said the last part teasingly.

"N-uh-No, no I mean, I'm not saying  _no_ , I-I mean-"

Bucky chuckled and cut me off. "Ah, c'mon Annie, I just  _saved_   _you_  from some jerk with grabby hands," he nodded his head back towards the barracks.

“Just  _one_  dance,” he assured me, the half-smile of his half-smirk showing. I opened my mouth to say something, but ended up just shaking my head 'no'. Bucky sighed once, tossed the mildly bloody rag in the sink across the room and put his hands lazily in his pockets again.

"Well, we get leave pretty regularly," he stated, taking a few steps towards me, a cheeky smile on his face. "So, don't count on this being the last time I'll ask you."

I sighed, looking down at my arm. "You're so confident I'm going to say yes…Why?”

He shrugged, the crooked smirk made an appearance as he walked backwards towards the door.

"'Cause you can't dance, and I am an  _excellent_  teacher." He said simply, taking the door handle and pulling it closed with him. The carefree, confident, bordering on smug, smirk fell and replaced with that authoritative mask hiding concern and worry.

"Lock the door behind me, 'kay Glow?" He said, his tone suddenly serious.

" _Glow_?" I repeated, walking closer to the door to lock it when he left. "Where'd that come from?"

"You tell me," Bucky said, the crooked smirk coming back. "You're the scientist who could melt a guy's face off, Miss  ** _Bright_** man."

When he spoke,  a genuine smile pulled at one side of his mouth. Quickly, almost missing it, he raised one hand, and with the side of a bent pointer finger, brushed the bridge of my nose and tapped the tip of it lightly.

Before I could respond, Bucky jogged down the three stairs to my door and started on his way back to…Well, where ever he was going. I shut and locked my door, like he told me to, and leaned on it. I rubbed my nose; it felt like someone had run a feather over it, a _white_ - _hot_ feather. I moved from the door to sit on my bed.

I'd  _never_  been asked to go dancing before. I mean, I knew the basics, Billy tried to teach me, but it was for the good of the men of Earth that I didn't dance with them. While I'm at it, I don't think anyone's ever looked at me twice, let alone multiple times like Bucky had. No one's ever gone out of their way to see or talk to me like he did, either.

"Anna? Annie, are you alright?" I heard Peggy say from behind the locked door through a series of knocks. She had a key, but I'm guessing that if she was knocking, she wanted to make sure I was ok first.

"Yeah," I muttered, shaking my head. "I'm fine, Peggy...C’mon in."

She opened the door and walked into my room, her sharp brown eyes looked me over quickly. Her nose wrinkled at the grubby hand mark on the upper arm of formerly pristein labcoat and my less than neat and tidy hair.

" _Bloody_  hell," she whispered, taking off her jacket and coming to sit next to me. “Would you like me to kick his arse for you?”

I could tell by her tone that she wasn’t kidding. “No…No, it’s ok…Bucky took care of him.”

There was silence as Peggy helped me out of my lab coat. Once it was off, she went to the kitchen to make us some tea.

"Dr. Erskine heard, he sent me over here and told me to come over and make sure that little  _Anina_  was alright," Peggy said, leaning her hip on the counter once the kettle was on the stove. My heart warmed a little.

The doctor, who insisted that I call him Abraham, but I still called him Dr. Erskine or Doctor, had slowly grown to be more than just a mentor to me. He was the type of father I wish I had had growing up, he even called me 'Anina,' the proper German variation of 'Anna,' because I was becoming so fluent in the language

"Well, you can tell him I'm fine," I said, shrugging my shoulders, making e wince Peggy saw it, and gave me a disbelieving look. I closed my eyes and let out a slow, annoyed sigh.

"Peggy. I'm fine. I've had much worse.  _I'm, fine_." I insisted, really just wanting to be alone.

Peggy sighed, and shook her head. When the kettle boiled, she prepared two mugs of tea for us, adding sugar and milk to mine. She handed me my mug as she sat on my trunk next to me. She crossed one leg over the other like I did, and put an arm over her knee while her other hand held her mug. We sipped out tea and looked at the door to our bathroom.

"You're a rubbish liar," she stated bluntly.

"I know," I sighed.


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks went by, the doctor and I were still trying to stabilize and perfect the formula of the serum. I did the best I could, but Dr. Erskine wouldn't let me see the whole formula. It took me asking him a few times before he just turned to me, put his hands on my shoulders and said ' _Wissen ist Macht Fräulein Anina, aber es malt auch eine Zielscheibe auf dem Rücken'_. Or, in English, ' _Knowledge is power Miss Anna, but it can paint a target on your back_.' My German had improved over the past weeks; I'd always been a quick learner, so German wasn't too hard for me to pick up. I was proud to say that I was almost tri-lingual now; I'd done well in the French classes I'd taken in school and was on my way to being fluent in German.

" _Der Mann bat sie zu tanzen_ m," I read aloud quietly out of my book, which was in English. I was working on my translation skills, so I had one of my favorite books in hand, and was reading it quietly to myself in German.

" _Der Mann bat sie, zu tanzen_ ," I read again, trying to perfect the pronunciation, but I kept thinking of a night a few weeks ago when I'd opened my door after someone knocked; Bucky was leaning on the door frame, that stupid half-smirk on his face as he asked me if I was sure I didn't want to go dancing with him again. I shook my head a little, getting the thoughts out of my head as I walked to get Dr. Erskine's mail.

"Hey, Annie!" I heard Bucky call out. I'd grown accustomed to his shouts, random appearances outside the lab, and how he'd simply just fall into step next to me when I was walking around the base. He kept his promise; every night that he had leave, he'd show up and ask if I had plans. He knew I'd have none, then just continue to charmingly annoy me about it. But I never did go dancing with him.

I asked him why he was paying so much attention to me. He'd just looked at the ground and took one hand out of his pocket to scratch the back of his head as he shrugged. 'You're not bad to talk too…' was his mumbled reply.

"Hi," I said with a smile, stopping off to the side of the road so a truck could get by. Bucky jogged to a stop in front of me, dressed in civilian clothes and carrying a large canvas-like duffle bag over his shoulder. That's when it hit me; I'd been here for 10 weeks already.

When I first met Bucky, he'd been in basic training for two weeks.

Basic training was only 12 weeks.

He was  _leaving_.

Bucky let his duffle bag fall to the ground with a light grunt, still half-smirking half-grinning. "Couldn't leave without sayin' good-bye to the best lab assistant to come outta Manhattan."

"You  _do_  know more things about me, right?" I asked, fighting to keep a smile off my face.

"'Course I do. I just know that's what  _you're_  most proud of,” he said, still half-smirking at me.

"So…Basic training's done," I stated, glancing down, looking at my book.

"Yeah, yeah…Goin' back to Brooklyn," Bucky said, almost awkwardly. It was odd, seeing him unsure of what to say. I don't think I'd ever seen him like that. His grin game back. "If your ever in my neck a' the woods, look me up."

I nodded, looking down at the book I had hugged to my chest. Picking at the binding, I heard Bucky clear his throat. I didn't look up, but I did look up (and almost jumped out of my skin) when I felt his hand gently on my bare upper arm; it was a  _hot_  day, so I was in short sleeves. I looked up at him with wide eyes. The gesture was oddly intimate for some reason.

"It was really… _really,_  great to meet you, Glow," Bucky said, the smile seeming more genuine and less smirk-like than before.

"And write me, ok?" He said, handing me a folded paper, presumably with his address written on it.

 _Glow_. As if people calling me 'Annie' wasn't bad enough, he'd given me another nickname. Thankfully, this one seemed exclusive to Bucky.

"Uh-huh," I said simply, taking the folded paper from him and ducking my head down as he took a half step closer. I had always been a  _little_  apprehensive towards people, but this was way past apprehensive, I was downright nervous standing with Bucky so close to me. He was so close that he was practically looking straight down at me.

Even more so when his hand moved to rest on my shoulder; my left shoulder. It was wrapped tight in gauze, 'cause I may have re-torn a tendon when John twisted my arm, and I didn't want to go to Dr. Matt, 'cause he'd just give me a sling and tell Dr. Erskine. Instead, I just had Peggy help me wrap my shoulder, tightly, and go around my upper torso a few times to keep it in place. When Bucky put his hand there, I worried he'd feel it.

"Good. 'Cause I know where to find you if you don't,” he reminded me playfully. I just nodded, peeking up at him wide eyed. He glanced over his shoulder and the hand on my arm tightened for a split second.

"G'bye Glow" Bucky said quickly, before ducking down a few inches to  _kiss my cheek_. I inhaled softly, a light gasp, really, when I felt his soft lips against my skin and the slightly scratchy feeling that told me he didn't shave this morning.

It was only for a second, but it was one of the best seconds of my life. Top ten. Top  _five_.

When he pulled back, I heard a few whistles and voices that where  _woo_ -ing and congratulating Bucky.

I just looked up at his strong-jawed, handsome face with wide eyes. I tried to speak, but when I opened my mouth no sound came out. Bucky still had that soft, genuine smile on his face, but it disappeared as he took the half-step back to his duffle bag. With the half-smirk back on his face, he hoisted his bag back over his shoulder and have me a relaxed, mock-salute.

"See 'ya 'round Annie,” he said as he walked away.

I was still standing on the side of the road, watching as Bucky walked away, when Peggy appeared behind me.

" _Well,_ " I heard Peggy say, making me jump. I let out a high squeal as I spun around, looking at the dark haired Brit who'd startled me. "Now you  _must_  tell me his name."

I blushed and started quickly to the lab; I was almost late. When Dr. Erskine would inevitably as why I wasn’t early, I'd just fumbled over an excuse until Dr. Erskine chuckled and told me ' _Verpassen Sie nicht Anina, Sorgen, zu viel. Mach dir keine Sorgen_ ,' which was basically telling me to stop worrying so much.

"Oh just his  _name_ , Annie!" Peggy begged, half-jogging to keep up with me.

"Ann _a_!" I exclaimed.

"Oh _please_ ," Peggy scoffed. "You  _look_  like an Ann _ie_ , Ann _a_."

I frowned. 'Annie' was a girl in pigtails. 'Anna' was a woman who was a great scientist.

"Goodness—Are you  _still_  blushing?" Peggy asked, lightly pinching my left cheek. I pushed her hand away and nodded. Peggy, being the most perceptive person I know, narrowed her eyes a little.

"Was that a first for you?" she asked skeptically.

I peeked up at her through my lashes. "No. I've been kissed on the cheek before," I defended myself.

"A man you're  _not_  related too?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. I blushed a deeper red and quickened my pace.

" _Oh_  you  _better_  write him!" Peggy called after me, laughing.

* * *

Omniscient POV

**Two Weeks Later**

_Bucky,_

_Everybody here thinks we're an item, did you know that? And the more I think about it, the more I think you did it on purpose. I'm sure you know this already, but you gained quite a reputation here. I haven't had any raunchy smacks or, well, let's call them_ propositions _, since you left. None of the men want to end up like Andrew Gallagher or John Harvey or Trevor McDonald (you get in a lot of fights, you know that?). I want to say thank you, for that. I would have liked to be_ in _on the idea, but nonetheless it's made being here much more bearable._

 _You know, if you ever feel like you want to get into a fight with someone, may I recommend a very rude, arrogant, self-centered, condescending, sexist_ pig _who I'm forced to work with every day? I swear, I've never wanted to punch someone, like you taught me, more in my life!—And I grew up in a house full of older brothers who liked to pull my hair ribbons and dangle my shoes out the window of our tenth story apartment! Being a woman in my field, I knew I'd have to deal with men like that, but before I encountered Lyle, I've never had a man tell me to go home and put my 'birthing hips' to better use!_

 _Bucky, you didn't even know what I_ did _every day and you have more faith in me than half of the people I work with. Only three people believe that I am capable of what I'm here to do; Dr. Erskine, Peggy (she's working with the doctor and Colonel Phillips), and you._

_I hope you don't mind my ranting. In case you haven't guessed, I don't have many friends. I pray you're not uncomfortable with me considering you my friend._

_Well, I hope you haven't wasted too much of your time._

_~Anna_

"Hey Buck."

Bucky looked up from the letter in his hand as Steve sat next to him at the dinner. He nodded a greeting, then turned back to the letter. Bucky thought Annie, the chemist from the Upper East Side, would be the type of girl with fancy stationary that cost more per sheet than the breakfast he just ordered. Instead, it was written on a couple sheets of notebook paper, the loopy, feminine handwriting was crooked, at a slight, floaty, upward slant.

"Yeah…Hey," he finally said, dropping the letter on the counter.

The blond man gestured to the letter his friend had in front of him. "Who's it from?"

Bucky couldn't help but smile a little.

"A girl," he said simply, taking a drink of his coffee.

"Who?" Steve asked, taking the envelope. "A better question, who do you know in _New Jersey_?" He asked, noticing the postmark.

"Sylvia Perkins moved to New Jersey," Bucky pointed out, trying to sidetrack Steve.

"This from her?" Steve asked, trying to politely get the waitresses attention; he  _kind of_  wanted to order something.

"Hm?" Bucky asked, pretending to be distracted by his coffee.

"The letter, it from Sylvia?" Steve asked again, getting a little suspicious. Bucky was his best friend; he could count the number of times Bucky had dodged his questions on one hand. But Bucky dodging questions about a  _girl_? Steve almost didn't want to ask.

"Nope…" Bucky trailed off, getting the attention of the waitress and waving her over for Steve.

"Mornin' sweetie, what can I get'cha?" The middle aged woman asked.

"Just a short stack and an orange juice please." Steve said politely.

"Comin' right up," she said, then glanced at Bucky. "Your's'll be out soon."

"Thanks," Bucky called as she walked away.

"You  _just_  got back from training. When did you have time to meet a dame?" Steve asked, chuckling a little in disbelief.

Scrubbing his face with one hand, Bucky let out a low, frustrated groan. He usually didn't mind telling Steve about the girls he knew. And the fact that he  _didn't_  want to made him frustrated beyond belief.

When Bucky didn't say anything, just sat there with his head resting on one of his hands, elbow propped up onto the counter, Steve tried to make small talk. Not that Bucky answered, but he was just trying to change the subject for his best friend. Steve gave up when their food came. The two just sat in silence.

"Her name is Anna." Bucky said as he started to drown his plate in syrup.

"The girl?" Steve asked, using the side of his fork to cut into the three stacked pancakes on his plate.

"Yeah…Annie." Bucky said, staring out the window to his left. "She's a lab assistant, working with some doctor at boot camp."

Steve laughed. "Only  _you_  would meet a dame on an  _Army_   _base_."

Bucky glanced sidelong at his blonde friend. "Shut up…'ya little punk." He muttered, giving Steve a light shove.

"So," Steve said, now intrigued by Bucky's Army Base dame. "What's she like?"

Bucky shrugged, leaning more heavily on the arm braced on the counter, holding his fork over his plate, letting the excess syrup drizzle off his hash browns. Finally, he picked a detail about Anna to share. "She's from the Upper East Side.”

" _Manhattan_ ," Steve said, impressed. "What's an Upper East girl doing at an Army Base?"

"Getting pissed to high Heaven that no one thinks she can do shit," Bucky sighed, using his fork to push his scrambled eggs into the puddle of syrup on his plate. " _She_  is a chemist. No one there thinks she's… _capable_."

Steve nodded, his mouth full of pancakes. He swallowed quickly so he could speak. "You two goin' steady ‘er somethin'?"

Bucky snorted, then chuckled, downing the rest of his coffee. "Nah, she won't even go dancing with me," he told his best friend, his usual smirk on his face.

Steve gave his friend a confused look. If Bucky was so hung up on this girl, why did he seem so happy that she  _wouldn't_  go dancing with him? When Steve asked this, Bucky just smirked and shrugged.

"She's different, 'ya know?" Bucky sighed as he dug in his pocket for the 95 cents his breakfast cost.

"Got a bit of a smart mouth on'er, gets her in trouble," Bucky said pointedly as Steve was putting his own change on the counter for his pancakes. "I think you two would get along."

Steve just rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little.

"Steve," Bucky said in a teasing, but still serious voice as he walked out of the dinner. He even slung an arm around his shorter friend's shoulders. “It’s her, I just know it. Anna Brightman is it for me.”

The blond sent a look to Bucky. He understood the words, but they were so _un-Bucky_ , Steve wasn’t sure he got it.

Bucky clarified with a wide grin and bright eyes.

"I'm gonna  _marry_  that girl one day."


	8. Chapter 8

"…I  _hate_  maps," I muttered, biting my bottom lip as I tried turning the map around.

I was already five minutes late and if I was more than ten, I doubt he'd wait much longer.

The serum was  _so_  close to being perfect. Dr. Erskine was quite frustrated with himself; he had the serum much more perfected in Germany, but when he, for lack of a better term, escaped from under Johann Schmidt's thumb, not all of his research made it to America with him. I wanted to stay in the lab, finish the work, but the doctor insisted that I be the one to go to the lab in Brooklyn the actual procedure would take place in, and meet  _Howard Stark_  to compare notes, get updates and, as he put it, ' _Sehen Sie die Welt Sie leben, Anina_!' ( _See the world you live in, Anna!_ )

"This is… _Lordy_ —what street is this?" I asked myself, one hand in my hair, keeping some disheveled curls out of my eyes as I struggled to keep my bag on my shoulder and look at the map properly. I could map out chemical equations and combine them without consulting textbooks or my notes— _Hell_ , without writing it down— but I couldn't find my way to a lab in  _Brooklyn_.

" _Oh_! I'm so sorry!" I’d been so focused on the map in front of me, I neglected to see the person in front of me. I quickly shoved my hair back and looked at who I'd ran into. "I-I wasn't watching where I was going—"

"It's fine," the man I’d crashed into said kindly. He was my height, if that, blond, and currently had his jacket sleeve pressed to his bleeding nose.

"Not your fault. No harm done," he added with a small, wry smile. It  _was_  my fault, though; he was standing close to a building, out of the way from the people walking.

"Not sure I could'a done  _any more_  harm," I muttered, my gaze going from his bleeding nose, to the bruise forming on his jaw, to the dirt smears on his shirt and knees,  _and_  the way he was favoring his right leg. "Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yeah! Yeah, I’m just fine, ma’am!” He said, nodding a little too eagerly. It was almost funny (in a very sad way) how hard he was trying to convince me, a stranger, he was in  _perfect_   _condition_.

"Are you sure? I think you may have broken your nose." I said, eyeing the swollen, red part of his face with a frown.

"I don't think I did, just bruised,” the man assured me. Something made him sneeze, and he winced painfully as he tried to mop up the blood that had spurted out.

Unable to hold my hand back, I reached forward and lightly pinched the bridge of his nose very lightly.

" _Ahh_!" The man yelped, wincing as he jerked his head away. His blue eyes clearly asking me  _why I would do something like that_.

"Broken," I amended. His blond eyebrows were furrowed in pain as he looked at me with sharp blue eyes.

"Sorry it took so long; Bobby's pretty busy today. Today’s a lot hotter than-…Anna?"

I spun around when I heard  _Bucky_  of all people say my name. He looked completely shocked as he stood there, a few feet from both me and the beat-to-Hell blond. He had an ice pack his hand.

"Thanks," the blond said to Bucky, greedily taking the icepack and holding it to his nose and jaw.

"Hi," I said, looking at Bucky with a small smile on my face.

"Uh, hi," he repeated, then laughed once before shaking his head a little.

"Steve, this is Anna," he said to Steve, gesturing to me with a proud expression on his face.

"Anna, this little punk is Steve,” he continued, giving the blond a nudge. Steve only just came up to Bucky’s shoulder, so the nudge nearly knocked him off balance. Bucky quickly shot an arm out to steady him.

I'd read about Steve in Bucky's letter, and when he was still on base Bucky talked about him a lot. Now that I had a name to put with the face, I wondered why I didn't recognize him right away. Short, blond, 100 pounds soaking wet, and, more often than not, sporting a fresh bruise or two.

"Anna, nice to meet you," Steve said with a bit more of a smile. "I, uh, I'd shake your hand, but…" he trailed off, holding one of his blood smeared hands up sheepishly.

"Its fine," I assured him. "It's great to meet you."

"What are you doin' in Brooklyn?" Bucky asked, taking his worried gaze off Steve to look at me. His cerulean blues threw me for a moment; when I used to see them almost every day, I built up some what of a tolerance. But I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, so the depth of the blue-gray irises nearly took my breath away.

"I have an appointment," I said simply. I knew I couldn’t actually tell them where I was going, but I couldn’t outrightly lie either; they’d know I was fibbing right away. "Don't know where it is and I'm already ten minutes late."

"What's the address?" Bucky asked me. I handed him my map. He chuckled once.

"What? Did I have it upside down again?" I asked with playful sarcasm.

"Nope," Steve said, who was also looking at the map, and looking a little confused as he missed the inside joke that was making Bucky's eyes sparkle when he gave that half-smirk.

"This place is just down there," Bucky pointed down the block, then sent a grin to his freind. "C'mon, we'll walk you, right Steve?"

"Yeah. Yeah sure," Steve said, his voice muffled from under his ice pack, but he seemed genuinely happy to walk me to the address.

"There. It's settled. C'mon," Bucky said again as he got off the building he was leaning on and started down the block.

"You know, Steve broke his nose,” I told Bucky when we began to walk.

"Yeah, I know," Bucky said casually.

"Hey! I'm  _right here_!" Steve protested vehemently, but abruptly dropped his voice to a mumble. "And I'm _sure_ it's not broken, just bruised."

"My brothers used to come home beat up all the time. They'd always pick fights with the Italians on the next block. I know what a broken nose looks like," I told Steve. He just looked away and mumbled something, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

"There it is, across the street there," Bucky said a minute or two later. We'd walked about three blocks down from where I'd bumped into them. I decided not to tell them that I walked right past the building— _twice_ —when I tried to find it myself.

"Thank you," I said, looking at both Steve and Bucky. "Thank you both  _so_  much."

"No problem," Bucky said with that smug, charming little half–smirk.

"Hey, maybe when you're done we could meet up. Go get lunch or something," he added as I took a second to tuck my hair back in a bun and fix my blouse.

I turned towards him, then glanced at Steve. "Uh…O-Ok." I thought for a moment. "I have to catch the train back to New Jersey at 3 o'clock, but I think I’ll have time for a quick lunch.”

"Great!" Bucky said, looking at his worse-for-wear wrist watch with a bright smile. "How long do you think you'll be?"

"An hour? Maybe an hour and a half," I shrugged. “No more than two hours, though.”

"We'll be here," Steve said from under his ice pack.

"Great," I said, smiling. I didn't look directly at Bucky as I smiled; I'd end up blushing.

"See you then!" I said quickly before jaywalking across the street and going into the old antique shop. I stuffed the map into my bag as I walked to the back counter.

"Wonderful weather this morning," the elderly woman behind the counter commented.

"Yes, but I always carry an umbrella," I said, repeating what Peggy and Phillips had drilled into me the last two days. Phillips more than Peggy; she had faith in me. The colonel on the other hand, I don't think he trusted me not to cut myself with a _butter knife_.

The old woman just nodded and reached under the counter.

"I believe it's in the back room,” she said gently, glancing towards the back of the store when she saw my confused look.

I nodded, clutching the leather strap of my bag as I walked to the back of the store. I stared at the bookcase, wondering if I was the victim of a joke. I jumped and let out a little squeak when the book case opened.

"Well,  _you_   **must**  be Anna Brightman." A voice said as I stepped into the plain gray hallway. I looked to my left and saw a man with slick black hair and a thin mustache looking up from blueprints on a table.

"Yeah- _yes_  I mean yes," I said, shaking my head a little as I held my hand out.

"I'm Anna." I said stupidly as I held my hand out. I was a bit wide-eyed as I looked at the man in front of me. Although I was used to seeing him in fancy three-piece suits opposed to a shirt rolled up to his elbows, crooked suspenders and a loosened tie, I recognized him instantly

"The doctor talks a lot about you,” the man said, shaking my hand.

"Howard Stark,” he introduced himself, a confident grin on his face. His smile was infectious; I couldn’t help but smile as well.

"So, shall we?" He asked, holding his arm out towards the doors at the back of the hallway. I nodded, loosening my grip on the strap of my bag as I walked with Howard, my hand shyly on his arm. He took a wide stride ahead of me at the doors, dramatically pulling them open.

"Well, what'd'ya think Brightman? Good enough to make a super soldier?" He asked, grinning.

I was looking around, wide eyed at the equipment being assembled around me. It took me a moment to suppress my excitement and produce a coherent thought. "Yeah…yeah I think it'll work just fine.”


	9. Chapter 9

Two hours and fifteen minutes later, I walked out of the antique shop. I used a handkerchief I had found stuffed at the bottom of my bag to wipe the light sheen of preparation off my forehead, and tried to scrub the black, blue and white ink smears on the sides of my hands.

"So, you _don’t_ know what she's working on?" I heard a voice I easily recognized as Steve say. For such a small man, he had a deep voice.

"I already told you, it’s all above my pay grade, pal," Bucky sighed, sounding a little amused. “Annie told me she had to sign all sorts of paperwork, she could be tried for treason if she tells anybody anything.”

Steve let out a low whistle of astonishment.

"Hello," I said as I walked down the stairs and around to where they were; leaning against the side of the steps.

"Annie! Took you long enough," Bucky said as that half-smirk returned to his face, making his blue eyes sparkle.

"Those people can really talk." I sighed. "So, lunch?”

"Yes," Bucky said, getting off the wall and clapping his hands once. "I'm  _starving_!”

* * *

"C'mon, I bet you can tell us something!" Bucky teasingly pled with mouth full.

"I can't!" I insited again, taking a sip of my soda. Bucky and Steve were trying to get me to tell them what the doctor and I were trying to do. They even tried to bribe me with hotdogs, the 'best in Brooklyn', but it wasn't working.

"Just a hint?" Steve asked hopefully. He'd barely touched his hotdog. When you have a broken nose, eating wasn't exactly a  _fun_  thing to do.

"I  _can't,_ " I insisted, smiling this time. They were a fun pair, Steve and Bucky. It was so easy to smile around them. "I signed papers and everything! Just telling you two that I'm  _working on_  a top secret project is toeing the line!"

"Alright  _alright_ , we'll stop asking," Bucky relented with a smile, stuffing the last of his hotdog in his mouth in a very ungentlemanly manner, but the action was still annoyingly endearing and charming. He crumbled the wax paper it came in into a ball and chucked it at the garbage can close to the picnic table we were seated at. He missed, and got up with a groan to pick it up and toss it into the trash can.

"You know, that's gonna heal crooked," I pointed out to Steve, gesturing to his black and blue swollen nose.

"I'll be fine,” he said in an tired voice.

"You should really get it fixed," I said, pressing the issue. "Bucky told me you have allergies, a broken nose like that, if it heals wrong can mess with your sinuses and airways."

"Can't go to a hospital," Steve admitted, then mumbled something under his breath, something about money I think.

"I could fix it for you," I offered as Bucky took his seat next to me again.

"Fix what for who?" He asked curiously as he sat back down.

"I could fix Steve's nose," I explained.

"Really?" Bucky asked, almost doubtful. "I thought you were going to college to be a chemist-doctor, not a fixin' people-doctor."

"Well, yeah, I was,  _am_ , sort of. The point is, that I grew up with a bunch of rough housing brothers and have fixed my fair share of broken noses," I said, looking pointedly at Steve.

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Is it gonna hurt?"

"Well, less than if you don't let me fix it," I said. It was a bit of a half-truth, but it was true enough.

" _Fine_ ," Steve said begrudgingly.

"Bucky, would you mind grabbing some napkins please?" I asked as got up and moved to sit on the same side of the picnic table as Steve.

"Back in a jiff,” he said, smacking the top of the table once before jogging off towards the hotdog stand.

When he came back with a handful of napkins, Steve had an apprehensive look on his face. Bucky leaned on the table behind me, the napkins in his fist.

"Alright…" I said lowly, curling my pointer and middle finger in slightly, and lightly grasped the bridge of Steve's nose between my knuckles, he winced. My other hand was palm first on his forehead.

"Oh three, ok?" I got a quiet 'Uh-huh' in response and he pinched his eyes shut.

"Ok…" I said quietly, taking a deep breath. "One…" I trailed off. Before I even had the words out of my mouth, I grasped the bridge of Steve's nose tightly between my fingers and pulled forward as the hand on his forehead kept him from leaning forward. There was a muffled crunching sound paired with Steve's odd, high pitched yelp.

"Where'd two and three go?" He complained as he grabbed the napkins from Bucky's waiting hand to wipe up the small amount of blood that was coming from his nose.

"I dunno," I shrugged, batting his hands away from his nose to look at it. There’d be some pretty bad bruising, but it would heal straight.

"That's how my momma always did it with my brothers," I reasoned.

"Looks a lot better," Bucky said. "I think Anna really improved your face,” he added jokingly. I looked at him with a sidelong gaze and nudged his arm. Steve rolled his eyes as Bucky pressed his lips together to suppress a laugh. He winked at me, and a giggle spilled over my lips.

* * *

After I played nurse, I had to get back to the train station. Steve didn't want to spend any more time in clothes with bloody cuffs than he had to, so he went back to his place. I told Bucky that I could make it to the station on my own, but he insisted on walking me.

"I was promoted, you know," he said as we were walking.

"Yeah. Sargent," I said, not making eye contact. When he didn't say anything, I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye and saw him with that smug little smirk in his face, looking down at me. I mentally smacked myself; knowing he was promoted was something I could only know if I snuck a look at his file…which, I did.

"But, that's what happens when you enlist, right?" I said awkwardly, trying to pick conversation back up.

"Uh-huh," Bucky mumbled, his blue eyes now looking intently at the sidewalk. They stayed down for the rest of the walk. They were still downcast as he held the door to the train station open for me.

"It-It was great to see you again," I said honestly.

"Really was, Glow," Bucky said, his eyes finally brightening up and looking at me again.

"And hey, don't be a stranger. Let me know when you're comin' up here again, I'll walk 'ya right to the lab so we can skip the whole Steve-with-a-broken nose fiasco,” he said, one of his hands came up of his pocket at gently rested on my upper arm. His thumb drew a soft circle on my shoulder before he squeezed a little and let go.

"I will," I said shyly, looking up at him. We sort of just looked at each other after that. I wasn't sure if he was going to say something else, or if I was going to blurt something out, but neither of us got a word out before a voice over the speakers called out my train.

I just smiled a little and raised a hand in a small wave. Bucky smiled, this one was about three-fourths real smile, one-fourth smirk. I was just about out of ear shot when I heard him call, well,  _yell_  something at me.

" _Don't forget to write me, Glow!_ "

I found a seat, and reveled in the giddy smile on my face, the flush on my face, and the warm feeling spreading through my body.

Bucky Barnes was one _hell’a’va_ guy.


	10. Chapter 10

"The chamber will contain the vita-rays, and the reflective inner coating will bounce them back onto whatever poor sap is in it-"

"-Saturating the cells and infusing them with the serum," I finished, cutting Howard of, nodding as I looked over the blue prints. "This-This is  _perfect_.”

"Why _thank you_ doll," Howard said smugly. I laughed once, just a breath through my nose, and shook my head. I was back in the lab in Brooklyn working with Howard. I hadn't told Bucky about this trip, as much as I wanted to. As fun as last month was, the actual trip, the train ride and finding the lab, had stressed me out to the point of asking Colonel Phillips outright for a car to take me to the lab instead of taking the train again. I wanted to see Bucky, I _really_ wanted to, but even if I just spent a half an hour with him, then went back to the lab, I wouldn't be able to focus on anything for  _days._ At least, that’s what happened last time.

"Where are you getting the power, though? No generator I've ever heard of can produce the energy we'd need for this to be successful,” I pointed out, noting the large voltage numbers scrawled on my notebook. I'd done the equation a few minutes ago, and impressed Howard quite a bit by doing all the calculations in my head.

Howard sighed and wiped a hand over his face, letting it come to rest on his chin as he braced his elbow on his other arm crossed over his chest as he squinted at the blueprints. One would think that the pieces of paper had wronged the man in some way. " _That_ , I haven't figured out yet. I've tried to make a generator that can meet the needs for this, but they blew up."

"They… _blew up_ ," I repeated, trying to keep the same casual tone he had. Howard wasn't anything like I thought he was going to be. Yes, he was just as cocky, confident and charming as the rumors said he was, but he was  _smart_. Anyone who said otherwise was an idiot. He was also, for lack of a better word, _nice_. When we took a break for lunch, he actually seemed like he genuinely enjoyed my company and wanted to get to know me.

"Yeah,” he confirmed, distracted as he looked at the blueprints and then turned to look at the lab behind us. I smiled and shook my head at the man.

Pulling an older looking print out from under the new one we had been looking at, an idea formed in my head.

"What if you tapped directly into the Brooklyn power lines?" I asked, looking up from the paper as I heard Howard turn around. He looked a bit perplexed at the idea.

 "This is the lab  _before_  you renovated it, right? One of the main lines runs right under it," I explained, tracing my finger over the dark blue line that went through the lab area on an old blueprint.

"That power line would only get us to 75% power," Howard stated, doing the complicated math in his head.

"Not if all other power was diverted through it, but for a few minutes," I added, quickly doing the equation in my notebook. "That'd get us _just_ over the 100% mark."

Howard slowly started to nod. "Yeah… _Yeah_ , that'd work,” he realized, slowly gaining that smug grin back.

"If you ever get bored of government work, you got a job at Stark Industries waiting for you," he told me with a fond grin. I smiled and blushed a little at the compliment.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said.

"You better," Howard said, then went back to the blue prints. "Now, what about the injection system? Not sure your garden variety syringes and needles are going to cut it…"

"Well, what about-"

"Miss Brightman!"

"Yes?" I asked, turning away from the blueprints. Already stressed, someone cutting me off by yelling my name didn't really help. A young assistant, probably only 19, rushed up; a letter in his fist.

"A-A general, left this, for you," he panted, holding it out to me.

"Thanks," I said, giving him an appreciative nod. The boy grinned, gave me a quick, sloppy salute,  nodded towards Howard, and rushed off.

As Howard explained his complicated injection idea, I ripped open the letter. As I read it, I thought I was going to be sick. I grabbed the edge of the table tightly in case I fell over.

"So, when the guy gets- _Hey_ , Anna," Howard asked, nudging my arm, thinking I wasn't paying attention. When he saw my quivering bottom lip, his brow furrowed.

"Everything alright?" He asked carefully. I just shook my head 'no.' He just stared at me for a second, then looked over my shoulder at the letter I was holding. Then he yelled for someone named Jeffery.

" _You_ , are going back to the base, Little Miss Brightman," Howard said, hands on my shoulders as he steered me towards the doors. I numbly let him, clutching the letter to my chest. I felt Howard throw my bag over my shoulder. "You're gonna get outta your work clothes, get in bed, maybe a comfy chair, depending on your accommodations. Read a book, listen to the radio, do a crossword."

"But-But I have to-" I tried to speak.

"Ah-Ah-Ah-!" Howard cut me off, holding up a finger.

"Emotional people  _don't_  belong in that lab." He stated, helping me into a car. After closing the door, I heard him smack the back bumper and Jeffery started driving me back to Camp Leigh.

Before we'd even gotten to the next block, I was sobbing.


	11. Chapter 11

" _Hier_ ," Dr. Erskine said ( _Here_ ), grabbing my hand and putting a few dollars in it. I looked at him oddly.

"Go have fun,  _Anina_ ,” he added, curling my hand around the bills. He patted them once before going with the officer from the recruitment office. We were at the Modern Marvels of Tomorrow Exhibition for Dr. Erskine to get some files, something I was actually looking forward to. And, he'd just given me seven dollars and told me to go have fun. The way he said it didn't really give me a choice.

Standing there, stupidly I might add, I put the money in my coin purse and sat on the edge of the fountain I was in front of. The doctor and I had gotten rooms at a local hotel, paid for my Howard Stark of course, so I had all night.

I could go see Howard's demonstration, but if he saw me there he'd probably make me come up onto the stage with him and finally plant that kiss on me that he's been joking about. Neither of those things sounded like something I wanted to subject myself too.

I didn't really want to see any of the exhibits. It'd just be a waste to see all those things and not be interested in them.

I pulled the folded up letter from the pocket of my sweater and flattened it out on my leg. I ran my fingers over my typewritten name on the envelope and I felt my lip start to quiver again, and I bit down on it hard to stop it. I’d been carrying it around for three days, and had it under my pillow as I slept.

"Annie?" I looked up when my name was called. A little of my sadness was wicked away as I saw Bucky _,_  of all people. He was dressed in his military uniform, hat and all. Said hat was tipped to one side. It was a small rebellion for someone in the military.

"Hi," I said, trying to smile. I gestured vaguely to his clothes. "Gettin' used to them?"

He chuckled, looking down at himself. "Guess so," he sighed, walking closer to me. I looked up and saw Bucky's blue eyes narrow slightly.

"Everything ok?" He asked, sitting next to me on the fountain ledge.

"Uh…You-You know how I-I come from a big family?" I asked, more than a little proud that my voice didn't shake.

"Six big brothers, right?" Bucky asked, still looking unsure and worried.

I didn't know how to talk about this to someone. Well, I talked about this sort of thing with Kiku, but with the… _situation_ , it took two or three weeks just to get a letter one way. Then, there was the fact that I just _didn't want to talk about it_ , I _couldn't_ talk about it. I handed Bucky the folded letter. He took it, and after he had a second to just read the first few sentences, Bucky looked at me with concern in his cerulean eyes. His gaze flickered over my head, then back to me and the letter I'd handed him. He folded it back up and put it back in my hands.

"Don't move. I'll be  _right_   _back_ ,” he said, standing and jogging off somewhere.

I looked back at my folded letter, and thought about what it  _meant_.

Of the six older brothers I had, Billy was the only one who paid much attention to me growing up. He'd enlisted, he was a Sargent, like Bucky, in the Army Air Corps. He went through training quickly, ended up overseas in less than 6 months.

His plane was shot down last week.

Billy, my big brother, was dead.

"Ok," Bucky said, stopping in front of me, clapping his hands once.

"C'mon,” he held his hand out to me. I gave him a questioning look, not moving.

Bucky rolled his eyes and that little half-smirk made an appearance again. "You need a little uplifting, Glow. Not to brag, but that's my specialty."

I hesitated, still not moving.

"You know what? You don't get a choice in this," he said matter-oh-factually, reaching forward and taking my hands, pulling me up and looping my arm through his. "So, what do you wanna do?"

* * *

"Why don't you tell me about him, Billy I mean," Bucky suggested as we walked through Prospect Park. I still had my hand resting in the crook of Bucky's uniform clad arm and my fingers tightened a little when he asked. The park was pretty quiet for a Friday night; if anybody wanted to be out, they’d be at the Exhibition we just left.

"He-He was the youngest of my older brothers," I started slowly. "He is…He  _was_ , only six months older than me." I said, looking at the ground.

" _Six_  months…Uh…But aren’t babies-" Bucky's face was screwed up a little in confusion as he glanced at me.

"Yeah…My father wasn't really the  _best_  man in Manhattan," I cut him off, the words came out a little harsher than I meant. My grip on Bucky's arm must have gotten tighter, because he shifted a little, as if he was uncomfortable. I loosened my grip and continued.

"Although, his secretary didn't seem to care," I said quietly, looking at my shoes as we walked. "I-I never met her, my birth mom. I don't think of her as my  _real_  mom…She just gave me to my dad and headed off to San Francisco. My real mom was the woman who raised me."

Bucky stayed quiet but nodded a little now and then as he kept his deep, smoldering blue eyes on my face.

"She died when I was 7, I-I'm not sure why. No one told me, and no one answered when I asked," I was practically whispering now, looking at my shoes as we walked slowly. “My aunt had a bad heart, so a I assume that’s what it was.”

"When my brothers turned 18, they all just… _left_. Accept for Billy, he stayed, and God knows how much he wanted to leave…I think my other brothers were ashamed to have a father who stepped out on their momma…Ashamed that they had a little blonde reminder of it in their brunet family. Billy was the one who took care of me, you know?" I glanced up at Bucky, who was looking like his heart was breaking as he listened to me. "Made sure I did my all my homework, helped me with it when I needed it…I think he even came to my school meetings a few times when our father was too busy to deal with them…

"And-And he…He's just  _gone_ ,” I choked out. I held onto Bucky's arm a little tighter.

"That-That seemed like a better idea in my head…" I heard Bucky sigh. "I just dragged you through all'a that…Jeez, I'm sorry, Annie."

"No…No, it-it's fine Bucky," I said, my voice a little steadier as we kept walking.

"You know…I-I've never told anyone that, besides Kiku," I peeked up at Bucky, and saw how the lights from the city cast a shadow on his face from the crooked brim of his uniform hat and only let me see one of his blue eyes sparkle.

"Well, I feel honored," Bucky said lightly, but sincerely, as he covered my hand with his free one. I smiled and looked down from his gaze.

"I grew up in an orphanage," Bucky said, seemingly randomly, a few minutes later. I looked up at him, surprised. Bucky had given no indication that he’s lived anything but a normal happy life. He just nodded and kept talking. "Yeah, since I was four, when my folks died."

"Do…Do you remember them at all? Your parents?" I asked hesitantly.

"I dunno. I have some'a their things…But not a lot'a  _memories_ , I guess…" He trailed off, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

We kept walking, talking about everything and anything that came to mind.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked, looking up at Bucky shyly.

"Shoot,” he said, looking at me with that little half-smirk.

"Well…" I trailed off a little, biting my lip, wondering if I really wanted to know the answer to my question. I could hear a saxophone playing a ways away in the park. "I was wondering… why do you keep going out of your way to talk to me, or-or to spend time with me?"

"Didn't you ask me that already?" He asked, his lips quirking up slightly.

"Well, yes," I admitted.

"And what’d I say?" He asked. I wasn't sure if he was going say something funny, or if he was genuinely asking.

"'You're not bad to talk to,'" I quoted him.

"Well, considering that's all we've been doing for the last, oh," he pulled his sleeve back to look at his battered watch. " _Hour_ or so, I'd say that's true."

"Bucky," I said, annoyed. "Be serious. Please."

He looked a little taken back by my tone and expression.

"You're  _really_  asking that, aren't you?" He realized, sounding surprised. I nodded.

Bucky sighed, patting the hand I had on his arm, squeezing my fingers a little. "Well, you're the smartest person I know, for one thing. One of the nicest. Definitely up there in looks-"

"What?" I cut him off, looking at him in confusion. He looked a tad uncomfortable.

"Well, uh…You're-You're,  _beautiful_ …Annie." He said honestly. I blinked a few times before looking down at my shoes.

We were quiet after that.

No one had ever called me _beautiful_ before.

We kept walking and ended up in front of the saxophone player; a young guy, with a fedora at his feet filled with pennies, nickels and a couple of dimes.

"How 'bout a dance?" Bucky asked me, looking at me with that crooked half-smirk on his face.

I looked up at him. "I told you, I don't dance."

"Don't, or can't?" Bucky asked teasingly. I gave him a mildly annoyed look that just made him chuckle.

"Aw, c'mon Glow," Bucky said playfully. "Have a heart, just  _one_  song."

I saw him dig in his pocket, then flip a nickel into the saxophone player's fedora. The two men shared a look and the saxophone player started to play a slower song, easier to dance to I assume.

" _Bucky_ ," I complained, pulling my arm from his. "I don't dance! And I have to be up early tomorrow and- _Eep_!”.

Bucky's hand wrapped around one of mine, pulling it up high as he pulled me towards him, spinning me as he did so. I let out a small squeak when I bumped into his chest lightly. His free hand caught me, lightly holding the small of my back.

Stunned, I looked up at Bucky and his blue eyes; they looked molten in the dim light in the park. He kept the half-smirk on his face, but it was softer than I've seen it, _almost_ a true smile. He  _really_  wanted to dance with me. Bucky just held me there, not in the raunchy, inappropriate manner the man back at base did; this was gentler and comforting, one hand holding mine out, the other resting on the small of my back. My free hand was against his chest, where it ended up when he'd spun me into his arms.

"C'mon… _One dance_ ," Bucky asked softly, quietly. There was a surprising amount of emotion and feeling in those blue eyes that where looking down at me.

"Bucky…Can-Can you let me go?" I all but whispered, feeling overwhelmed and a little uncomfortable.

His arms dropped right away and a little of the sparkle fell out of those cerulean blue eyes. He laughed once, sticking one hand in his pocket and looking at the ground as he fixed his hat with the other hand.

I never wanted to hurt his feelings, it was the  _last_  thing I wanted to do, so I looped my arm through his, like how we'd walked before. I sent him a shy smile, which he returned tenfold with a grin. He patted the hand I had sheepishly curled into the crook of his arm as he tossed another nickel in the saxophone player's fedora.

The sparkle started to flicker back into his eyes.

* * *

I  _did_  have to be up early tomorrow, and after telling Bucky this, he, as any good gentleman would, offered to walk me to my hotel. Once we got to the hotel I was staying at, I pulled my arm from Bucky's.

"Sorry for stealing your evening," I apologized.

"You didn't  _steal_  anything, Annie," Bucky said, smirking. "If anything, I  _gave_  you my evening."

"An evening with you must be pretty valuable, then," I retorted, playing with the handles of my purse.

"You tell me," he came back, half-stepping closer, hands lazily in his pockets as his eyes smoldered down at me from the light of the hotel overhang. I just shrugged, unable to say anything. What started as light banter just got a little more serious.

"Well…I don't have much to compare it too," I admitted quietly, making him smirk and laugh softly.

As Bucky chuckled, I bounced up onto my toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. If I didn't do it then, I would have just lost my nerve. It was quick, I almost didn't have time to register the light scratchy-feeling that was covering his cheek and jaw. Bucky stopped laughing, his eyes were surprised and his mouth was partly open and in a half-smile, instead of a half-smirk. He seemed at a loss for words as he looked down at me, blushing and all.

"Thank you…I needed this," I I told him as I reached up and straightened his hat so it wasn't tipped to one side.

He shrugged, looking at the ground. "Not a problem, Glow." I rolled my eyes and scowled at the nickname.

"Aw, c'mon, none'a that,” he said, brushing the outer part of my cheekbone with the back of his fingers. "Wouldn't have spent my evening any other way."

After he pulled his hand away from my face, he brought it up to tip his hat to the side again. Peeking up at him through a few disheveled curls, I pulled the key out of my purse and headed towards the door.

"Hey Glow!"

I spun around and internally cursing myself for answering to his ridiculous nickname. "Don't forget to write," he said, taking a few steps towards me.

"I won't," I said, straightening his hat. Not missing a beat, he tipped it sideways again.

* * *

It was a little while later, I was paging through my notebook, trying to figure out  _why_  exactly that the formula wasn't working. I was thankful when the phone in my room rang; I was about to throw my notebook out the window and let the pigeons make a nest out of it.

After accepting the call, Peggy started talking. I 'uh-hu'-ed my way through her talking about the SSR, the lab in Brooklyn, and a little complaining about the amenities on base.

"Peggy?" I asked once she was done. "What do people do on dates?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. " _Didn't someone have this talk with you when you were young?_ "

"Not  _that_ ," I groaned, blushing. "I don't have much… _experience_ , in this area and I was just wondering…what people… _do_."

" _Well, the last date I went on, we walked through London, stopped at a pub, danced for a few songs. Why?_ "

"Uh…no reason," I lied poorly, tugging on a blonde curl that didn't stay in the bun the other were in.

" _Annie_ ," Peggy said knowingly.

"Well, I think I was just  _on_ , a date," I said, falling back to lay on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. "I'm not sure, but I think I was."

" _Hang on,_ " Peggy said. There was some muffled talking, then Peggy came back. " _Tell, me,_ everything."


	12. Chapter 12

I sighed, spinning a washer like a top on the table top. I  _hated_  waiting.

Using my palm to smack it to the table, I stopped the washer, then started spinning it again.

Dr. Erskine wanted to update Howard on the formula and find out how the lab was coming. So he sent me to Brooklyn again.

I'd been waiting outside the lab for almost twenty minutes.

I spun the washer again, this time there was too much force behind the spin and the washer ended up on the other side of the hallway.

Not having the motivation to go pick it up, I sat back in the chair I was in and started tapping my fingers nervously. Waiting made me anxious, it always has.

My mind started to wander after waiting for half an hour.

How Peggy was absolutely  _appalled_  that I didn't own an article of clothing that didn't have chemical stains.

Dr. Erskine seemed to be increasingly more and more interested in what I did in my free time. I called him a nosey old man and didn't tell him how in what free time I had, I would look at my notes and files to try and get the last few stabilizing details of the serum down to test the next day in the lab.

Colonel Phillips  _still_  wasn't a big fan of my work. He stopped asking me to get coffee for him, thank the Lord, but still had that skeptical and slightly condescending look in his eye whenever I explained something.

I'd recently become more interested of the medical side of my current work. I'd been using a few of my days off to go to the closest library and get material on several different medical related fields. Dr. Matt was very supportive and helpful. I didn't tell anyone besides Peggy; if Phillips heard about my new interest, he'd stick me in the infirmary and dub me a nurse before I could say 'chemistry set.'

As my thoughts went to the infirmary back on base, I came around to the thought of Bucky. It'd been three days since I'd seen him, and I still hadn't written him. I felt almost guilty for not writing him.

As much as I had tried to avoid Bucky on base, after spending a whole night talking with him it made me feel closer to him; like he was a good friend, not an annoyingly persistent young man who wanted to take me dancing. And he had been so…Just  _so_ …I don't think my vocabulary contained a word that could properly articulate how kind and sweet, yet at the same time teasing and flirtatious his personality was.

A door opening made me jump up, smoothing my skirt as I did so.

It was just an assistant running papers. He gave me an awkward smile as he passed.

I sat back down, huffing slightly and crossing my arms. Tapping my fingers on my forearm, my stare zeroed in on my notebook sticking out of my bag.

"Oh what the heck…" I said under my breath, taking it out and opening to a new page. I started to write another letter to Bucky. I wrote for a good 25 minutes before the doors opened.

"Annie! Sweetheart! I'm  _so_  sorry to have kept you waiting for so long!" Howard said loudly as he threw both doors open, briskly strutting towards me.

"Oh, it's ok. I don't mind taking a ninety minute train ride here to sit in a hallway for forty-five more," I said offhandedly, capping my pen and putting it in the crease of my notebook as I closed it and stood.

Howard just shook his head. "Doll, one day, someone's gonna match that wit a'yours."

"Hasn't happened yet," I said with a shrug, following him into the lab.

"Oh, it will. Who knows, maybe you'll go with this someone to the bistro around the corner. I hear they have an amazing lunch menu," Howard continued, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous smile on his face. I blinked a few times, then tilted my head to one side. It took me a moment to process what he was asking.

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to pass," I said politely, setting my bag in a chair at the table the blue prints where laying on. “But thank you, for the offer.”

"Aw, you're breakin' my heart, doll," Howard said dramatically, even putting a hand over his heart, but his grin never faltered.

"Can we just get to work? Please?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable.

"Alright, alright, alright…" Howard said, putting his hands up in the 'unarmed' fashion as he went to his side of the table.

"Managed to weasel my way into the New York power grid, that's actually what this place is running on now. Great idea, by the way," Howard said, sending me a particularly bright grin.

"Thank you…" I said quietly, looking at the final blueprints for the chamber. "Have you started assembling it yet?"

"Yeah, just started the internal components a few hours ago. Should have the thing up and running in a few days. A week at most."

"Good…Good…Dr. Erskine told me this morning he's made a decision on who is going to be the lucky man to get into that thing," I informed him.

We worked in silence for a little bit, only the sound of rustling papers.

"Hey, who's 'Bucky'? And  _why_  haven't I heard of him before?" Howard asked.

I snapped my head up, seeing Howard on the other end of the table, feet up on the table and my notebook open in his hands.

"What are you doing?" I asked, louder than normal as I quickly went to the other side of the table to grab my notebook out of his hands.

But he got up quickly and walked backwards away from me, still holding my notebook.

" _Just having someone to talk to and listen was more or less exactly what I needed_ ," Howard read off in a high pitched voice that I think was supposed to sound like me.

"Oh, I'm  _hurt_ , sweetheart! You didn't tell me you had a fella all to yourself! I just made a fool of myself asking you to lunch!" He said, his voice dramatic and sarcastic as he continued to move out of my reach with my notebook.

"No! No he's not a-a  _romantic_  friend!" I snapped, reaching for my notebook again.

"Who  _is_  this guy anyway? Anyone I know?" He asked, ever-so-innocently, a grin playing on the corners of his mouth.

"No, you  _don't_  know him!" I snapped, stopping my pathetic chase after him and crossed my arms childishly. "Just-Just give me my notebook!" I said softer, looking up at Howard in the best way I knew how, eyebrows pulled together a little, chin tilted down and opened my brown eyes wide. It used to be how I got my older brothers to take me to the park after school…before they left, that is. I learned it was a pretty good way to get men to do the little things for me. Howard stopped, and narrowed his eyes at me. " _Damnit_." He tossed my notebook at me.

"You know, my little sister used to give me those big sad eyes," he sighed, falling into his chair. "Thought that was some lucky gift she'd gotten when she was born or something."

"Nope…" I trailed off, hugging my notebook to my chest. "Every woman has a pair'a sad eyes."

* * *

" _Guten Morgen Arzt Erskine_!" I said walking into the lab the next day. "I have the newest blueprints and notes from Howard. He told  _me_ , to tell  _you_ , that that chamber should be done soon."

"Ah, good, good…The serum should be done by then,” he said, lifting the test tube of milky blue liquid to the light as he swirled it around.

"I have a few ideas," I said, taking off my sweater and replacing it with a lab coat. "I'll get started on them right away."

I _did_ have a few ideas, but there was something I wanted to do first. I'd taken a detour to the post office on base and gotten my mail. The only relevant thing I got was a letter from Bucky, by the postmark, it was mailed the day after I walked with him at the park.

I ripped it open at my lab station and unfolded the single sheet of paper inside. Bucky's replies were usually a little shorter than my three page novels. But this one was unusually short.

_Dearest Glow,_

_Last night, I really hope I didn't overstep anything at the park. And I'm sorry if I did. But you should also know that I'm_ _not  going to stop asking until I get a dance._

_I'm shipping out today. Must have slipped my mind to tell you in person. I hope you're not mad at me for not telling you. You needed cheering up and I happen to know, for a fact, that you would have put up more of a fight if you knew it was my last night in Brooklyn. Maybe fight isn't the right word, but you wouldn't have had as much fun. I really wouldn’t have spent my last night any other way._

_I'm really hoping you'll keep writing me over there. I also hope Steve doesn't get beat up on his way to the post office with this._

_When I said I'm shipping out today, I meant in an hour._

_When I get back, how about we meet up so I can show you the best bands in Brooklyn?_

_Yours,_

_Bucky_

I stared at the letter, shocked. The envelope fell from my hands and floated to the floor.

"Ah, so his name is  _Bucky_ ," I heard Peggy say teasingly. She walked up next to me and put the envelope back on the counter. She must have ready his name on the return address.

"Yeah… _Yes_ , his name is Bucky," I mumbled, distracted by his letter.

"Anna…Annie, what's wrong?" Peggy asked, her tone softer as she put a hand on my shoulder.

"He…I  _knew_  he was in the Army. I mean, I met him here on  _base_  for goodness sake…But-But I never knew…He never told me he got his orders," I said in a half-mumble. "I didn’t know he was going over so soon, and now he’s already left. Before we could have a proper goodbye."

"Oh…" Peggy said, her hand squeezing my shoulder a little. "Well, he's been trained. Knows what he's going. Can't be too stupid if he's already made sergeant. I think he'll be alright."

I nodded a little, folding his letter up and putting it back in the envelope again. I carefully put it between the pages of my notebook. I’d kept every letter Bucky sent me in a box my mother brought me back from France.

“I’ll write him back later, even if he won’t get it for a while, I’m still going to write him every week," I told Peggy, a light blush on my cheeks. I sounded like the wistful girls absolutely gushing over their GIs. Peggy rolled their eyes at them. I thought it was sweet, but _Lordy_ they were being dramatic.

He spent his last night before he went off to a warzone walking around a park with me and listening to me yammer on about my familial mess, not interrupting once.

_I really wouldn’t have spent my last night any other way._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I started my college semester a few weeks ago, and don't know how often I'll be posting. I technically have the whole story written, but I wanted to edit the chapters before posting them. Just wanted to let you know!  
> Oh, and thank you for the feedback and stuff! I love it all!
> 
> *Edit 17/9/2018* : I am sooooooooo sorry that I posted the same chapter twice! And I'm soooooo sorry I didn't notice until now! Please forgive me, readers! Shit had been wild on my end--College sucks sometimes.

It was 7 am, and I was leaving my quarters like I did every morning to go to the lab. Only instead of my usual beige or neutral ensembles, I was nervously smoothing my new green skirt. It was newer in style than the rest of my clothes, and lacked the small dotted line, and the crooked seem just below it from where I'd taken the seam out and made it longer as I grew.

After my last meeting with Howard, I'd received a trunk full of new clothes. All my size thanks to Peggy's excellent snooping skills. There was a note with it in Howard's signature scrawl;  _You have to look the part doll. You have one of the best and brightest minds, so dress like one of the best and brightest_.

It was his way of telling me he didn't approve of my stained blouses and snared stockings.

I fully intended on sending the trunk back, refusing to be a charity case, but sometime during the night Peggy had taken and hidden all my clothes, leaving me with only the trunk of new ones.

The forest green skirt was the most conservative street-ware in the new wardrobe I was left with. The blouse was simple enough, no one could tell it was made from some of the finest linen available in the States. The stockings on the other hand…They had French tags.

If I didn't hate my own stockings so much I would have left them in the trunk.

" _Guten Morgen, Doktor_ ," I said pleasantly, smiling at Dr. Erskine as I walked past him to my station.

" _Guten Morgen, Fräulein Anina. Haben Sie gut geschlafen?_ " Erskine asked, looking up from the papers he had open on his desk.

"I slept well, thank you for asking," I said cheerfully, tucking some of my curls behind my ear. Peggy had taken most of my hairpins when she took my sweaters, most of my hairpins were in the pockets. So my curls were hanging down my back at their full length, hitting the bottom of my shoulder blades.

"Has the mail come?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"At your station," Dr. Erskine said simply, looking at me with knowing, mischievous eyes. My nose wrinkled and my lips pursed as I tried not to smile as I skipped to my corner of the lab across from the doctor's.

It's been two weeks since Bucky had shipped off to Glasgow. He didn't tell me where his ordered would eventually send him, so I had to bat my eyelashes a few times to get my hands on Sgt. James B. Barnes' orders. I wasn't very proud of that, but Bucky wouldn't tell me, and I  _wanted to know_. We were still sending letters back and forth. He'd started to begin each letter with _Dearest Glow_. He claimed that, all the way across the ocean, he could tell I was blushing when I read it.

Bucky's letters were what you'd expect. He described a few of the guys he'd met, some new training, some complaining about the foggy raining weather and the food. It was almost like we were each other's diaries; me more than him. He must have been getting some attention from constantly receiving the long, five and six page letters I was sending. His replies were still simple, one, maybe one and a half, pages. In this letter he sent me a British pound coin, which I promptly put in the front pocket of my bag for safe keeping.

"As promised, here is the file for the first test subject,” Dr. Erskine said, holding a file out to me. The man had to be approved and thoroughly vetted before the doctor could release his information. I’d been nipping at Dr. Erskine’s heels for the information since he said he’d chosen someone.

Stowing Bucky’s letter, I grabbed the file and flipped it open with a grin. My eyebrows rose up in slight amusement. " _Five times_? This man tried to enlist  _five_   _times_?" I asked, looking up. "Why wasn't he accepted?"

"Look at the next page," Dr. Erskine told me. I flipped it over and let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

"Alright, makes a little sense now," I reasoned, reading down the list. Asthma, pneumonia prone and Hay fever, just to name a few.

"But, he's a good man?" I asked, setting the file down. I'd skipped the first page with his name and information on it, as it had very little to do with the work I’d be doing. I also didn’t want to get too attached if something went wrong.

" _Ja. Eine der besseren_ ," Dr. Erskine said with a nod. ( _Yes. One of better ones_.)

"Good," I said, nodding once before going back to my lab station.

* * *

Several hours later, I sat on my lab stool, one arm crossed over my chest, the other arms elbow braced on it and my chin resting on the upraised had. I squinted as I looked at the chalkboard a few feet in front of me.

"It's not right," I said out loud, tilting my head slightly to one side as the complicated chemical formula was mapped out, down to the molecules, in white, yellow and blue chalk.

"It looks fine to me." I heard Lyle, one of the Army scientists, say behind me.

"It's not  _right,_ " I said again, only louder, so Lyle could hear me better.

"We've tested it on the blood samples and it _works_ ,” he explained slowly, almost condescending. He didn't have that much faith in me, because he was constantly looking over my shoulder and making comments about the quality of my work. He was the one I told Bucky to feel free to punch.

"Only 89% of the time," reminded him, not taking my eyes off the board.

"Yes, 89%. The Colonel said we had to get it above 85% before testing could be considered, and it  _is_ , so it  _works,_ " Lyle said, his voice getting sharper with every word. He was a bit of a hothead. Dr. Erskine had sent him out of the lab on several occasions due to it. I asked why he was still around if  _nobody_  liked to work with him (which no one did). The doctor said that he was quite brilliant, when he wasn't being such a  _miststück_. I had to look that one up; I flushed and shut my German/English dictionary quickly after I read it.

" _Yes_ ," I said, my voice getting sharper. "Which leaves an 11% margin for error. An 11% chance that every cell in a man's body will grow and expand at such an-an  _unstoppable_  rate that he will spontaneously combust in a matter of seconds."

I spun around on my stool to look at Lyle. " _I_  won't be happy until that margin for error is 1% or lower."

"Then we may as well just ask Hitler to give us the keys to his tanks," he snapped, irritated.

"I'm sorry, I guess I just value human life more than you do," I muttered before gathering my things into my bag and leaving the lab, holding my sweater in my arm rather than taking the time to take my lab coat off and put it on. I was due for lunch, and Lyle was bothering me.

I needed to write Bucky.

* * *

_Dear Bucky,_

_I'd say I hope you're having a better day than I am, but since you're in a warzone that might not be the case. This project I'm working on (No, I still can't tell you about it) is getting more difficult, both mentally and emotionally. Sometimes I think college was easier, even with the condescending professors and the boys that would ask me to sew buttons back on their shirts._

_You know, the higher-ups here keep telling the doctor and I that what we're doing will save soldiers' lives, the lives of innocent civilians…But at the same time what we're doing has a margin of error that's too big for me to comprehend. I can't wrap my head around how 11 people dying is an acceptable price to pay for 89 weapons. I know this might not make sense, because you don't know what I'm talking about, but I don't have anyone else to talk to._

_If I told anyone else these things, they'd have to report it to the doctor, and he'd have to report it to Phillips, who'd use it as the excuse he's been looking for to get me off the base, and get one of those soulless Harvard graduate men looking to get out of the draft in my place._

_It just baffles me that someone could think of just one person dying is an 'acceptable' loss, when_ _clearly_ -

"Anna?"

I put my pen down and looked up to see the _last_ person I'd  _ever_  expect to see on an Army base.

"Steve?" I asked, looking wide eyed at the small blonde man in the same kelly green training uniforms the other recruits had, only they looked about three sizes too big for him.

"Uh, hi," I said, closing my notebook and putting it back in my bag, pulling my food closer to me and gestured for Steve to sit across from me. I'd chosen a small table at the very back of the mess hall, away from the rowdy men.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you—I am—but what are you doing here?" I asked, remembering how Bucky had told me he tried to enlist but was labeled 4F; unfit for duty.

"I joined the Army,” he said simply, like it was an obvious answer. He had this little smile on his face that he was trying, and failing, to hide.

"…Ok…" I trailed off, shaking my head as I picked my fork up and spinning it in my lumpy mashed potatoes. "I guess I won't ask."

"Might be better if you don't," Steve said before taking a bite of his own food. I can't be too much more specific than 'food,' that's why I don't usually look at what I'm eating.

"When did you get here?" I asked.

"Three days ago," Steve said, nodding a little, looking proud. "It's about time, too! Took me five tries to get here."

"F- _Five_  tries?" I asked, dropping my fork and leaning forward a little.

"M-hm," Steve said, nodding, mouth full. Some gravy dripped down his chin. He used a napkin to wipe it away instead of his sleeve, like the other men seemed to prefer to do.

Steve. Sweet, bashful,  _Steve_  was Erskine's choice. And right now, there was an 11% chance that I was going to help blow this poor man up. I couldn't do that! And  _Bucky_ —I didn't even want to _think_ about what Bucky would do if he found out I blew up his best friend!

I stuffed the rest of my things into my bag. "Stop by the lab later, we'll catch up. I have to go," I said quickly, standing up and pulling my bag over my shoulder.

I was about to pick up my tray, but Steve waved my hands away. "I can get it for you,” he assured me. I sent him a look, but he just rolled his eyes a little.

" _I'll get it_ ,” he said again. I sent him a smile then rushed out of the mess hall.

Once I got back into the lab, I threw my bag at my desk and grabbed an unused chalkboard that was standing against the wall, bringing it with me to my station. Putting it next to the one with the formula already on it, I grabbed a new piece of chalk and set to work drawing a bare bones of the formula on the new board.

"Dr. Matt! Can you get me those books you were showing me yesterday?" I called, still drawing on the blackboard. The only indication he heard me was a 'Yes ma'am' I heard behind me.

"Back again?" I heard Lyle say.

"Yes" I said, not looking over my shoulder at him. "And I'm gonna be in here, working on that 1% margin for error until I get it. You  _can_  help me…”

I trailed off, and took a deep breath. I summoned all the spunk Bucky claimed I have.

"But if you're  _not_  gonna help, then _Shut up,_ and _stay out_ of _my way_."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the mix-up with Ch. 13. I fixed it, so Ch. 13 is ACTUALLY Ch. 13, so, go back and read it if you haven't.

“You know, Bucky's told me several times about how you have too much stupid for a guy your size. I didn't really believe it until now," I sighed, crossing my arms. I was in the infirmary, and currently being glared at by Steve; the bottom of his face was obscured by the mask giving him oxygen. He was still in his dirt smeared training outfit and had a few dark smudges over his sweaty face.

"Oh don't look at me like that," I said with a laugh, moving to sit on the cot next to Steve's as the doctor walked away. "You know I'm right."

His gaze didn't change.

Steve had asthma, _severe_ asthma. Before training, he was supposed to come to the infirmary to get an injection of epinephrine and aminophylline, along with several other drugs to help his respiratory and nervous system when he ran and exercised. I helped come up with the formula with Dr. Matt, and he boasted about how genius it was to the other doctors and officers. With the injection, Steve didn't have to worry about having trouble breathing when he ran or exercised for a good two hours.

Accept when he didn't take it, he ended up in the infirmary.

"I was doin' fine the last few days," Steve muttered from under his mask.

"Yes, you were, because you were  _getting your shot before you went out,_ " I chided him, making him roll his eyes.

"You sound like Bucky," he groaned

"No…No, I think Bucky would say something more along the lines of 'How can  _so much stupid_  fit into such a  _small_   _guy_?'" I said after a moment. Steve chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah he probably would,” he admitted. "Have you heard from him recently? How's he doin'?"

Steve knew I was writing Bucky once or twice a week. He'd asked me not to tell Bucky that he was here, training. I didn't ask why. I figured that there was, right now, a 5.972% chance that he was going to combust on the procedure date, so I owed him _something_. As much as I wanted to tell Bucky about what his best friend was doing, technically, according to the papers I’d signed, I couldn’t tell him. I repeated that to myself over and over so as not to feel guilty.

"Fine, as good as he can be, I guess," I told him, frowning a little. “The trenches are rough, especially where he is, but he isn’t telling me that.”

"He wouldn’t want you to worry,” Steve said, pausing to hack out a few coughs. After some deep breaths through the mask, he continued “You’re real special to him, you know?”

"You think so?" I asked, a mildly amused smile on my face. I couldn't deny that I had feelings for Bucky, but I also got the feeling that one didn't get that charming and suave naturally. I have no doubt that he had a trail of old sweethearts a mile long.

"Yeah, I mean, before he went off for training, he'd been trying to get a date with Nancy Fredrick for  _weeks_. I ditched them to, uh, to try to enlist again…So he was gonna go have a night on the town with Nancy and her friend. The Bucky I know would  _never_  turn that down," Steve said, chuckling once. I gave a small smile and looked down at the floor. Bucky was right, Steve really had no idea how to talk to a woman. He meant well, but so far, he hadn’t helped the situation. "He dropped them both like a hot potato when he found out you were there,"

I snapped my gaze up to him in shock. “ _Really?_ ”

"Oh yeah," Steve nodded quickly. "Shared a cab with him later that night, wouldn't shut up 'bout you."

I felt my cheeks blush, and I looked down. Now I _really_ thought there was something special about him. He could have spent his last night of leave with two pretty girls in the most exciting city in the world, instead, he walked around a park with me.

“Bucky’s really special to me, too,” I said softly.

* * *

I nervously chewed my thumbnail as I stood behind Howard as he tinkered with a dial.

"Will you _stop_?" Howard finally asked, grabbing my hand away from my mouth with a gloved hand. "You're making  _me_  nervous."

I frowned and tucked my hand under my other arm crossed over my chest, hugging my notebook to my chest.

"Sorry. A bit antsy…I haven't slept in three days and have had six cups of coffee today." I said quietly, my foot starting to tap nervously on the floor.

"Well, why don't you just go up to the viewing room and have a cup of tea of something," Howard suggested, standing up straight from the dial he was working on.

“Oh, there is no way I’m gonna be stuck up there. In less than an hour, history is gonna be made right  _there_ ," I paused to point at the platform where the chamber was. "And I have the opportunity to be right up next to it. I'm not gonna miss out on that 'cause I haven't slept in 72 hours!"

Howard wasn't really as bad as his reputation painted him to be. He had his moments, but he was a nice, standup guy. He treated me like a sister, like Billy did, and was actually much nicer than the rest of my flesh and blood brothers.

"Yeah, can't say I blame you," Howard sighed, an excited smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. He turned a bit more sympathetic and gave me a soft shove with his elbow. "Try and relax."

I relented and took a few steps away to sit on a bench. After kicking my feet up, I dropped my notebook and files onto my lap. I stretched both arms up in the air and ran them through my blonde hair. My thoughts wandered to Bucky. It had been a couple weeks since I’d gotten a reply from him, and I was trying not to worry. He was in an area of France where it was hard to get supplies in and mail out. Nevertheless, I kept writing, more for my own piece of mind than anything else.

As I sat on the bench in the middle of the hustle and bustle, lost in my thoughts, the man of the hour arrived.

"Hi Anna.”

When I heard Steve’s voice, I jumped up off the bench and scampered over to him. I put on my most supportive smile “Hi Steve! How do you feel?"

Steve shrugged his slim shoulders as I led him up to the platform. "A little nervous, I guess."

"A  _little_  nervous?" I repeated his words, chuckling a little. "If I were you, I'd be more than a  _little_  nervous."

"You know, you're not making me feel any better,” he told me, shaking his head as he let out a nervous laugh.

"You don't have anything to worry about," I said, with a smile. "I did all the calculations and equations myself. There's a  _less_  than 1% margin for error."

I'm not that embarrassed to admit that a little pride was in my voice.

"Miss Brightman! Would you please come and look these over?" I heard one of the lab technicians' call.

"Just a second!" I called back. I looked back at Steve and gave him another reassuring smile. I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Everything is going to be ok, Steve, I promise.”

After squeezing his hand one more time, I left to go speak to the technician. They stood by a large round container on casters and lifted the lid as I approached.

"That was all we could synthesize,” he said nodding to the eight vials of blue liquid in the metal container. I took the clipboard and began paging through the in-depth analysis of the contents of the liquid.

"We could have a whole damn  _vat_  of this stuff, you know?” Lyle's cynical voice commented snidely from his station.

"Yes. And only 89% of those men injected would live to see another day," I said calmly, still examining the clipboard. I frowned when I got to the last page. “What about the impurities? Where’s that report?”

The tech began to scramble, flipping through a number of manila folders until he proudly shoved one at my chest. I took it with a kind smile and opened it up. The more I read, the more pleased I became. “Good…Oh this is really good! They’re perfect!”

" _Perfect_ …Not a word _scientists_ like to use," Lyle grumbled.

"These have less than .4% impurities," I said, closing the container.

 "That's as close to perfect as science can get,” I snapped, closing the container. I grabbed my notebook and returned to my spot hovering around Howard. I let out and irritated huff and frowned.

"I  _don't_  like that man!" I hissed under my breath.

"Who?" Howard asked, lifting the goggled from his face to his forehead and hairline.

" _Lyle_ ," I said his name like a swear word, a frown on my face.

"Lyle? Lyle who?" Howard asked, his face contorting into a thoughtful one, trying to match the name to a face at my guess.

"He's a- _a herablassenden Ruck, die keinen Respekt für das, was ich tun kann, hat_." I said, a little louder, in near fluent German. " _Das sexistischen Schwein kennt kaum ein Reagenzglas aus seiner-_ "

" _Fräulein_ , I did not teach you German so you could use it like _that_ ," Dr. Erskine said, after asking Steve to take his shirt and hat off. I pouted a little, looking down at my shoes.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the viewing room, Agent Carter?" I heard Colonel Phillips say, directed to Peggy. The British woman hesitated, then nodded. She sent me a slightly jealous look as she walked up to the viewing room above the lab where all the, as Howard called them, 'hoity-toity', men sat to watch the procedure. She would have much rather preferred to stay down by the action, and, although she would never admit it, she had grown a little attached to Steve.

I barely heard what Dr. Erskine was saying over in the microphone. I was so focused on the nurses as they wheeled the large container up to the platform, each taking three vials and putting them in the slots. I flinched as they clicked into place.

This  _had_  to work.

It was  _going_  to work. 

_Please God let it work._

"Hey, Annie," Howard said, gently nudging my arm. I sent him a worried look.

"Quit'yer flinching. I looked over those chemical formulas of yours. I had some of the  _best scientists in the country_  look at your chemical formulas. He's  _not_  gonna blow up,” he said honestly, pulling his gloves back on, readying himself to turn the wheel that would fill the chamber with Vita-Rays.

The chamber closed around Steve, and on his que, Howard started turning the wheel, yelling out the percentage as he did.

A loud, painful sounding yell came from the chamber. I dropped my notebook as I ran up to the chamber. Everyone was yelling different things, but I was the only one who approached the chamber a sparks and low levels of radiation came from it. I could barely hear myself think as I tried to remember _where Howard put the manual release on this thing_.

"No!" Steve yelled from inside of the chamber. "No!  _I can do this_!"

The yelling stopped. I sat back on my heels, and saw Howard looking at me; he wasn’t going to turn the wheel anymore until I gave him the go ahead. I slowly got to my feet and gave him a nod.

The Vita-Rays inched past 80% and 90%. By the time 100% was reached, the lights were flickering wildly.

After the lights returned, the lab was nearly silent.

The chamber opened with a hiss.

" _Lordy_ …" I breathed, eyes wide.

Inside the chamber, was a tall, well-muscled man. His broad shoulders were broad and sturdy looking as they heaved  up and down with labored breaths; it must have felt odd to Steve, having perfectly functioning lungs for the first time.

I pushed my way through the people on the platform, grinning as I got to Steve and Dr. Erskine.

" _Sehen? Ich sagte Ihnen, immer und immer würden Sie mich nicht, oder Steven, nach unten_ ," Dr. Erskine said, putting his arm around me in a one-armed-hug, and pinched my cheek lightly. ( _See? I told you over and over, you would not let me, or Steven, down_.)

I smiled proudly and threw my arms around the doctor's middle and hugged him tightly. Of all the people to have faith in what I could do, I was glad it was him. He chuckled and pressed a fatherly kiss to my forehead as he hugged me back.

A deafening bang made me jump and lose my footing and I stumbled back into the rail around the platform.

Everyone was yelling again. Another bang echoed through the lab. And another. Another.

I let out a scream as I saw Dr. Erskine fall to the ground, a bloody circle growing on his chest. Steve bent over him. I tried to get to the doctor, my mind hazy and swirling with all the medical knowledge I had.

He couldn’t die—Dr. Abrahm Erskine _couldn’t_ die, the world still needed him. _I_ still needed him.

"Anna!" I heard Howard say loudly, squatting down next to me. Wasn't I standing up?

"Hey! C'mon doll, you ok?" He asked, taking my shoulders in his hands and shaking me slightly.

The motion made me gasp hard and fast, so hard and fast that it caught in my throat and turned into a sob. _I was in so much pain._

Howard let my shoulders quickly, but I kept sobbing.

"Shit…Shit shit  _shit,_ " Howard hissed, moving to kneel at my side.

"Hey! Need a doctor over here!" He yelled over his shoulder. The pain was centralized over my shoulder, and I whimpered as Howard applied pressure. He had his palms pressed to my shoulder, one on the front, the other on the back, his fingers linked over my small shoulder so he could squeeze tightly. There was blood. A lot of blood.  _My_  blood.

My vision started to blur and things got hazier in my mind.

"It hurts," I complained weakly.

"Yeah, yeah I know it does doll face, but-hey,  _hey_  you gotta stay awake. Stay awake with me sweetheart," Howard said, increasingly louder as he spoke. I could feel unconscious sweeping over me, from blood loss most likely, but I made an effort to keep my eyes open for him.

"C'mon sweetheart, gotta stay awake for me!" Howard said, taking a hand off my shoulder to grab my chin and gently slap my cheeks. Something sticky and warm clung to my face where his fingers touched.

"Keep those doe eyes open, you hear me?" He practically ordered me. He looked over his shoulder at the hazy chaos could hardly make out.

"We need a  _doctor_  over here!" He yelled again. I could see all the medical staff leaning over Dr. Erskine's unmoving body. I whimpered, and my eyelids started to flutter as a wave of pain crashed over me.

"No no no, none'a that," Howard said sharply, swallowing thickly as he put more pressure on my bleeding shoulder.

"C'mon, stay with me doll, stay with me. Gonna get you all fixed up, alright? Gotta keep you pretty for that fella you got over there. C'mon, stay awake for  _him_  now, 'kay sweetheart? Stay awake for your boy. Ah, _shit_ …What was his name?" Howard paused, taking away one of his hands to wipe sweat off his face as he thought. I saw a red smear follow his hand before it went back to my shoulder.

I was calmed by the thought of cerulean blue eyes and the handsome face they were set in.

"B-Bucky," I breathed shakily, my eyelids growing heavy. "H-His n-na-n-name is-"

I had to stop to whimper as Howard's grip loosened. " _Bucky_ …"

"Right, Bucky, right. Stay with me, for Bucky, alright?" He pleaded, moving his head to look into my half-closed eyes.

" _C'mon_  Anna! Don't you  _dare_  shut your eyes!" Howard said, trying to sound like his normal demanding self, but it came out a bit desperate and begging.

"Ok,” I sighed, one side of my mouth twitching up the slightest as I thought about Bucky.

His beautiful, perpetually sparkling, blue eyes and how they seemed to shine when he looked at me.

How he referred to me as 'his Glow,' not matter how many times I told him I wasn't 'his,' Glow or otherwise, he just smiled.

How he'd reach up to run a hand through his hair, even though the dark brown locks were rarely out of place.

He spent his last day before he was shipped off walking with me around a park, letting me talk about my horrendous, sad excuse of a family.

But most of all, he called me  _beautiful_. No one's ever called me beautiful.

When I used to get all dressed up for a chorus performance at school, Billy would always muss my curls and tell me I was 'pretty good lookin.' Before that, my mother, after managing to control my curls, used to say I was 'pretty as a princess.'

But in my 23 years, only Bucky Barnes has called me  _beautiful_.

My mind was swirling lazily with all the memories I had of Bucky, and it was getting harder and harder to keep my thoughts straight and eyes open.

Howard's yelling was getting harder and harder to hear.

I heard Howard yell 'We need a  _damn_   _doctor_  over here!' 

His voice cracked on 'damn'.

My thoughts faded to black, and I thought about Bucky's smile.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short so I'll be posting another one in not too long.

I woke up in the hospital. I was groggy and sleepy, but dead set on getting _out_ of the hospital. I hated hospitals, and Howard and Peggy knew than  _very_   _well_  in the span of only a few minutes. Hospitals reminded me of my father, and I didn’t want to be around either.

When I was finally released from the hospital, I asked how I was getting back to my quarters at the base in New Jersey. Howard told me, flat out, that he'd booked me a room at The Plaza— _The_   _Plaza_ —and only ‘over his dead body’ was going to let me sleep anywhere else. I'd told him it was too extravagant, and that I was uncomfortable accepting it, but he changed my mind in the car.

I'd gotten a little peak at  _Howard_  instead of  _Howard Stark_.

* * *

"C'mon doll, I'll drive you," Howard said, putting a hand on my uninjured shoulder as he led me out of the hospital room I'd been given. He stopped and threw his jacket over my shoulders before we walked out of the building into the car; I only had on my thin, bloody blouse.

When he said that he would drive me, he meant he would sit with me in the back of his Rolls Royce while his driver did the actual driving.

I sat uncomfortably next to him, picking at the dried blood under my finger nails and trying to keep it off Howard's long coat.

"I had a sister, you know,” he admitted randomly, looking out the window of the car.

"You told me," I mumbled.

"I  _had_  a sister," Howard repeated, not looking at me. I looked up at him, my brows knit in confusion.

"Couple years younger than me,” he continued. "Big puppy-dog sad eyes, smart as a whip and the sweetest damn thing God ever made.”

"I went off to MIT when I was 16. She-uh, she got sick not long after that. I'd rip out pages of my textbooks and send them to Elisa, my sister, so she had something to do." He looked intently out the window at the quickly passing Brooklyn streets. "She…She got bad, real sudden. I was just about to make my way to the train station to visit them when I got a call…My ma was crying on the phone."

"Oh…Howard…" I said softly, my heart swelling with empathy for the man next to me.

"She'd be your age," Howard said, taking a sharp, deep breath and straightening up a little. He glanced at me.

"You're 23, right?" He asked. I nodded.

"I know it doesn't  _really_  make sense," he said awkwardly. "But I watched out for Elisa when she needed me to, and, you  _don't_  have anyone to watch out for you, and you need it."

There was silence in the car.

"I've never been to the Plaza,” I said a few minutes later.

"I think you'll like it," Howard said, his face having that smug grin back.

* * *

After three nights at The Plaza, I returned to Camp Leigh, only to be told that Phillips and Peggy were in the city and I was going to be sent there as well. If I wasn’t so tired from the pain medication for my arm, I would have argued.

The first thing I did at the Manhattan SSR base was find Steve. I wanted to know how he was feeling after the serum, and run a few tests. I also wanted to know how he was doing in the head after Dr. Erskine died.

When I found the blond man, I smiled and went quickly to his side. “Hi Steve. How are you feeling?”

"Anna, hi." he said, sounding distracted. "How's the shoulder?"

"Not bad. I'm actually on so many pain killers right now I'm only about 80% sure I'm  _actually_  talking to you right now," I said with a wry smile. Getting that I was joking, Steve smile a little and chuckled. We spoke briefly about Dr. Erskine. His body was cremated and would be stored until relatives could be contacted in Germany. Sadly, it could be years before the good doctor would be put to rest.

"Ah, there you are,” the colonel said, walking up to me with a small folder in his hands. " _Dr_. Brightman."

I looked at him, wide eyed, and then looked at the black folder he was holding out to me. Slowly, I reached out and took it from him. When I struggled to open it with one arm, Steve stepped in.

There, in the black leather folder, was a doctorate from Colombia University, with _my name on it._

" _Oh_ …Oh _wow_ …" I breathed, still wide eyed at my degree.

"Congratulations, you earned it,” Phillips said gruffly. "And now, I'm here to inform you that your services for the SSR are no longer required, and, there for, your security clearance for this agency is to be terminated at 4 o'clock today after Agent Carter has debriefed you."

"W- _What_?" I asked, my voice shocked, and mildly insulted. I clutched my diploma to my chest.

"You were brought into the SSR to help Dr. Erskine with the serum. With the doctor's passing, your services are no longer required," Colonel Phillips said in the same gruff tone he always had with me. With that, he turned and walked away.

Thoroughly insulted now, I smacked my degree into Steve's chest, he quickly grabbed it so it wouldn't fall, then I followed the colonel. "You want more serum, don't you?  _I'm_  the only one who can give that to you!"

"We have the best scientists' available working on replicating the formula," the colonel informed me condescendingly.

"Obviously not  _all_  of them, because  _I'm_  not working on it!" I said, following him further, to where Howard was working on the submarine-like-craft the HYDRA agent Steve chased had left behind.

"Don't think that just because you've got a new, fancy degree, I'm gonna let you in on a top secret assignment,” he told me sternly.

"I was already  _in_ on this top secret assignment!" I told him, practically yelling.

"I want to hear  _one_  good reason why you are not allowing me to work on this project," I demanded. I wasn't exactly sure where all of this confidence and volume came from, but I think it had a little something to do with vengeance. I wanted HYRDA on its _knees_ for killing Dr. Erskine. I knew I would be in a lab, not on the front lines like the men  _actually_  out on the front lines, but I couldn't just sit back with my new degree and wait to hear what happened by the radio. I just  _couldn't_.

The colonel sent me a sharp look. I thought he was going to yell at me, but instead he just turned and walked away.

"I'm sorry, Anna." I heard Steve say behind me. I looked up at him, nodding a little. "He's not letting me do anything either, if-if that makes you feel any better.”

 _That_  really made me feel bad.

All the work. The sleepless nights, the headaches from the thinking alone, tolerating the condescending men all the time, and it was all for nothing if the  _one_  man who this all benefited wasn't even allowed to do was he was meant to do.

One of the men in suits pulled Steve off to the side. He gave me a small smile, told me congratulations as he handed my folder back, and left.

I wandered over to where Howard was working on the HYDRA submarine.

"Hey there doll! How's the arm?" Howard said from his place in the single seat of the sub. He had a pair of wire cutters in his hand and a fist full of scribbled notes in the other.

"Fine," I sighed. "Uh, just thought I'd come and say good bye."

"Good bye?" Howard repeated, a confused expression on his face.

"I'm gonna be debriefed and sent home today," I explained. "I guess, since the doctor's gone, Phillips is cleaning house."

"Uh-uh, nope, sorry, I can't allow that," Howard said, getting up out of the submarine. " _You_ , Annie, are not going  _anywhere_."

"O…. _K_ …" I said slowly, confused.

"Annabelle Jane Brightman, Stark Industries is  _officially_  offering you position."


	16. Chapter 16

“Is it bad that I'm  _excited_?" I asked Howard as we got into the back of the truck.

"Well,  _I am_ ," he reasoned with a grin, shrugging a little. Peggy just rolled her eyes at us and shook her head. But she couldn’t hide that little hint of a smile as she looked out the windows.

I bit the inside of my lip so I wouldn't start giggling in anticipation.

Since Howard had hired me, I was attempting to replicate the formula, since the HYDRA agent that shot me stole the last two vials and  _my notebook_ , I was working off memory and trying to fill in blanks the doctor kept to himself.

Howard was called to Europe to help reverse engineer Axis technology, and he didn’t even consider not bringing me along. We’d grown close the last few months.

I’d been writing Bucky, but I hadn’t been getting responses. I think I was up to 15 letters without a reply. But I kept writing. I used some of Howard's contacts and found out where the 107th was; it was a stroke of luck and the work of God when they were where we were going.

I might actually dance with him when he asks me this time.

Maybe.

* * *

I peeked over my shoulder and went into the tent. The sound of typewriter keys was loud and a little distracting.

"Oh…Oh don't be true…" I muttered, slipping through the mess of secretaries to the filing cabinets in the back of the tent. "Please oh  _please_ …"

I opened the drawer labeled  _A-Ba_. I quickly sifted through the files, biting my lower lip so hard I thought I was going to break skin.

After hearing that only 50 out of 175 or so men from the 107th made it back from the raid, I _had_ to know if Bucky was one of the missing or one of the safe. The camp was a bit too big for me to ask around, so I was going on a little adventure.

_Barnes, James B._

I pulled the file connected to the name out, and gave a little whimper as I saw  _MIA_ stamped on it.

My hands were shaking a little as I put the file back in its proper place and rushed out of the tent into the rain. I felt like the heavy canvas was starting to close it on me, making it hard to breathe.

I didn’t bother with the hood of my jacket once I was outside. I let the rain that was falling drench me. My curls became droopy and sad, matching my demeanor. I was holding in tears as I walked to the tent I was sharing with Peggy, and kept my head down so no one could see my face.

I bumped into someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry- _Anna_!" I looked up when I heard a familiar voice above me. I looked up and managed to smile at Steve. A hot tear mingled with the cold rain on my cheeks.

"Hi Steve," I said weakly, looking up at the tall blonde currently wearing his red white and blue outfit under a long coat.

When I heard that Steve was going to be traveling around selling war bonds, I felt so angry I almost got sick. I had thought, at the very least, he would be able to enlist in the Army like he had wanted to do in the first place. But administration suits I’d never met shot the idea down; they wanted Steve alive to poke and prod when necessary. We kept in touch, and I knew how much Steve hated it, but he felt like taking pictures with snooty babies was all he could do. When other men were laying down their lives, standing on stage and taking pictures with babies as ‘Captain America’ seemed like the least he could do.

“Anna, why aren’t you wearing your hood?” He asked me, his tone worried and sad. He mumbled about me getting a cold as he dumped water out of the hood of my jacket before pulling it over my head. Steve even zipped the rain coat up, and put his hands on my shoulders, looking at me for a moment.

“I really want to talk with you, Annie, but I need to speak to Phillips,” Steve told me. “Go back to your tent and dry off, alright? I’ll come get you when I’m done…You look like you need a hot meal.”

“Are you going to talk to him about Bucky?” I asked as he started to walk away. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. I wiped my cheeks, ridding them of rain and tears. “Took a look in his file…Why- _Why_ do they gotta make the MIA stamps so _big_ and _red_?”

Steve wordlessly walked back to me and put a hand between my shoulder blades. He began steering me towards the officers’ tents. The SSR and Stark employees were bunking there. Because they were housing civilians, that meant we didn’t have to sleep on canvas bunkbeds three high and got to eat the good food with the officers. He wordlessly brought me to my tent and held the flap open for me.

“Didn’t have to walk me here,” I mumbled, and watched Steve grab a pair of woolen trousers and a thick knit sweater off the top of my trunk. He threw it over the dressing screen in the room.

“Get changed, Anna,” he sighed, jerking his head towards the screen. “Can’t have you catchin’ your death out here ‘cause you stay in wet clothes.”

With that, he turned his back to the screen and faced the partially open tent flaps. Seeing no point in fighting him, I grabbed a few underthings from my trunk and went behind the screen. I let my dress, which was sopping wet at the top, fall to the ground, and didn’t care enough about the bland beige thing to pick it up. I stepped out from around the screen and made a little sound to indicate to Steve that he could turn around.

He did and pulled a spare blanket off the table once he saw me. After shaking it out, Steve draped it over my shoulders and gently pushed me to sit on the bed. He squatted down in front of me, and made sure I was wrapped up to my chin in the blanket. “Do you feel alright? D’you have chills, chest rattles, a runny nose, headache—?”

“What makes you so qualified to play nurse, Mister Rogers?” I asked, trying to be funny in my sad voice.

Steve wiped a tear off my cheek. He reached into the blanket and began rubbing his large, warm hands up and down my sweater-clad upper arms to warm me up. “My mom was a nurse, a TB wing at the hospital. And I’ve been sick enough to have some what of an idea to do.”

“Don’t you have to talk to Phillips?” I asked weakly, watching him as he got up and went to the electric kettle on Peggy’s side of the room. He flicked it on and began preparing a cup of tea for me. “I’ll be fine here, you know.”

“I bet you’d do just fine,” Steve admitted, fidgeting with the string of the teabag. “But I promised.”

“Promised what?”

Steve poured the hot water into the tin mug, and approached me again. His sad expression was tinged with a bashful blush. “Bucky made me promise to look after you when he was gone.”

I just stared up at him, wide eyed. I accepted the tea from the tall man.

“Don’t really know what he expected me to do, bein’ five-foot-three when he left and you on an Army base, but he made me promise anyway.” There was a pause, and Steve squatted down to look at me more directly. “I…I don’t wanna let him down...”

I don’t wanna let him down _if it turns out he’s dead._

He didn’t say it, but I knew what he meant.

It my tea clutched in both my cold hands, and swaddled up in a blanket, I looked back at Steve. “I’ll be alright now, Steve…Go talk to Phillips.”

He seemed hesitant to go, but he eventually left after giving my arm a brief squeeze.

After some gulps of hot tea, I put it on the ground and curled up on the bed provided for me.

I noticed a bundle of letters on the floor near the head of my bed. I poked an arm out and lifted them up. It was the 17 letters I’d sent Bucky, all the letters he never responded to.

He never even got them.

I hugged the letters to my chest and cried.

* * *

I groaned and rolled over when I heard movement on Peggy's side of the tent. I stifled a yawn and sat up.

"Peggy?" I asked sleepily, frowning a little when I saw her pulling on her jacket.

"Just me Annie, go back to sleep,” she said in a tone that reminded me of how a mother would talk to a child. I didn't like it. I got that parental-tone a lot, just 'cause I was only 23, almost 24.

"No, no what's going on?" I insisted, leaning up. The blanket Steve wrapped me in made it hard for me to sit up properly.

She hesitated, then just shook her head. "I'll explain later, just go back to sleep now."

"Peggy, you're scaring me a little," I said honestly. Peggy was always calm and together, now, she looked like she was near a manic state of mind.

"Steve is going to the HYDRA camp," she blurted out.

" _What_? How?" I asked, fumbling around to get up and out of my blankets. " _Why_?"

"His best friend is there," Peggy said simply. I hope she didn't see how I froze for a moment when Bucky was mentioned. She was looking through some papers, and triumphantly pulled out a map. "Howard is going to fly us there.”

"I'm going with," I announced, jumping off my cot and searching for my boots and jacket.

"And, if you say  _no_ ," I continued. " _I'll tell Phillips._ ”

"You wouldn't dare," Peggy said, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Over the last month, I've been translating and decoding the notes of a  _slightly_  paranoid German scientist. I've been writing to a man who hasn't even been getting my letters. I almost punched someone in the throat two days ago, and I can barely step outside this God-forsaken tent without having a Neanderthal wanting to inspect my stockings." I said sharply, jamming my arms through the sleeves of my coat. "If I have a chance to get out of here, and  _save_  people,  _I_ ,  _am_ ,  ** _going_**."

Peggy was thoroughly stunned at my little speech and nodded slowly.

"C'mon then,” she said after a moment. I grinned at her walked out of our tent.

"Anna? What are you doing here?" Steve asked, seeing me walk up behind Peggy towards the plane.

"What's it look like? I'm coming with you." I told him, a smile on my face. I tried to make it confident and playful, but it came off a little nervous.

“Anna, you really shouldn’t—”

“Steve, I’m already here,” I cut him off, smiling sadly. “You aren’t getting me off the plane.”

"Enough chit-chat!” Howard yelled from the cockpit. “We gotta hurry.  _Technically_ , we aren't allowed to take this plane."

"I thought this was _your plane_ ," Steve said, sounding a little apprehensive.

"Well, technically, it is," Howard reasoned, shrugging a little. " _I_  designed it,  _I_  built it…Yeah, the Army  _owns_  it, but it's still  _my_   _plane_."

My eyes widened. I quickly fell into a seat and buckled into the harness as the engines powered up.

I wasn't real keen on flying, especially with Howard at the controls.

I’d been in a plane before, of course, but never one like this.

Billy had a friend, Joe Shwartz, who had a little plane he used to visit relatives along the East coast; Joe flew Billy and me to the Hamptons a few times.

This was a very different type of plane, though, and it was going to be flying over occupied land, and not house and a bay.

It took a few breaths before I formed a mantra in my head to keep me calm in the air.

_For Bucky._


	17. Chapter 17

**Five Months Ago**

**HYDRA factory**

Bucky had his jaw clenched as he glared at the floor, his hands linked behind his head as he walked.

Being shot at, doing the shooting, finding somewhere to sleep in trenches, finding time and paper to write to Glow— _Those_ were his worries for a long time.  _Those_  were worries he could wrap his head around.

Now, walking in a line with his hands up and guns pointed at his head, he didn't know what to do. He'd already panicked (puked in a ditch) and retaliated (hit a guard in the gut and he was pretty sure he was sporting the beginnings of a black eye), and now he was just trying to figure out how to  _live_.

" _Halt!_ " A German accented voice yelled. The line of 100 or so men stopped.

The man was tall and thin, wearing a long, black leather duster. There was a shorter man next to him; balding, round glasses, and clutching a folder to his chest.

"You 'vill surrender all 'veapons and possessions to 'ze men 'vit bags!" The man in the black duster yelled again. His heavy German accent made Bucky cringe.

"Anyone who fails to do so…" He trailed off and glanced at one of the masked soldiers. Idly, Bucky sarcastically noted how all the men seemed ready for a gas attack.

The soldier raised his gun and aimed it in Bucky's general direction. The man five to his left disappeared with a scream and a burst of blue. Bucky's eyes widened in fear. His jaw clenched tighter and he swallowed thickly.

Bobby Harrington. That man's name was  _Robert Harrington_. He was from Connecticut. He had a wife back home. Just last month he got a letter with a picture of his new baby girl. Named her Helen, after his mom who died last year; cancer. That baby was the cutest damn thing and she was never gonna know her daddy.

A masked man with a large sack was walking down the line of men, stopping in front of each one.

His foot was bouncing with anxiety, and when this thigh muscle twitched, Bucky felt the bundle of letter’s in his front pocket. He wasn’t about to let these Nazi sons-a-bitches take the letters from his Glow, he tried to think of a plan. The sack-man was about 20 men away from Bucky.

Trying to mimic how Steve sounded in the fall, Bucky let out a deep cough that started in his chest. He moved his hands from behind his head to grasp the shoulder of the man next to him, while the other pressed against his chest like he was trying to stop the pain. Still letting out rattly, wet sounding coughs, Bucky managed to get a hand inside his pocket. He easily picked out the envelope he desperately wanted to keep, and shoved it into the waistband of his pants before hastily covering it with his sweater.

"You ok there pal?" The man Bucky had leaned on hissed out the corner of his mouth.

"Never better." Bucky breathed, putting his hands back behind his head.

A man behind him yanked the jacket off Bucky's shoulders roughly.

"Sure, make sure the guy with the cold dies faster," Bucky muttered darkly. The masked soldier snapped something harsh in German. He made a face at him once the soldier turned his back.

The man with the sack stopped in front of Bucky. He let out an exasperated sigh and felt around his pockets. He pulled out the contents of his pockets and dropped the spare items into the sack; a few bullets that hadn't made it into the mag of his rifle, the button that had fallen off the sweater he was wearing, a small amount of dirt and few dirty postcards he’d ripped out of the hands of some younger soldiers—Not that he had any desire to look at them! It was just that the damn kids were supposed to be on watch, not making gooey eyes at scantily clad women. When it came time to part with the bundle of letters, Bucky removed them from his pocket slowly, and held them in his hands for a second. He pressed a kiss to the top envelope, right over the return address that bore her name, and dropped them in the sack.

"Oh, almost forgot," Bucky muttered, bending down to get the item clipped to his boot. He’d picked it up in Scotland with some spare change, and it had been in his boot since then. He’d grown quite attached to it, in fact.

Bucky held up the seven-inch trench knife. The blade was inches from the guard’s face. The infantryman dropped the knife into the bag with a defiant look burning in his blue eyes.

* * *

Bucky was sitting on the floor in one of the small, round cells the capture men were stuck in, like animals at a twisted sort of human zoo.

It must have been the middle of the night, because there weren't any guards walking around. After looking over his shoulder a few times, Bucky put a hand under his sweater and pulled out the letter he’d managed to save. Opening it up, he left the folded correspondence inside and pulled out the photograph contained within the envelope. Holding the photograph close to his face, so he could see it in the dim light, Bucky smiled fondly and somewhat sadly at the girl in the girl in the picture who looked back at him.

A few months ago, when the guys in his unit were really getting on Bucky about this girl he  _claimed_  to know,  _claimed_  to have waiting back stateside; one guy said he was making her up, that me must have been writing his mom or something. Bucky, determined to prove that he was as much a charmer as he claimed, made the bold request to have Anna send him a picture of herself. He made it clear that it was to prove a point and nothing else, and, low and behold, a few weeks later a single picture of Anna Brightman was in his letter. He said he asked for it to prove he was a ladies man, but he secretly wanted to be able to look at his Glow’s face when things felt… _hopeless._

The photograph was clearly taken by someone else, and clearly by surprise. Her eyes were wide as they looked at the camera. She was leaning over a table covered in files and papers, one arm resting on the table, the other up in the air holding a pen. Her note book was open in front of her, and her hair was louse and falling over her shoulders in those delicate corkscrew curls. Her pink lips were a few shades darker than her ivory skin in the photograph and had a hint of a smile, just the ends of her lips quirked up a little, like she'd been smiling seconds before the picture was taken.

" _What_  in  _the_  Hell do you have to  _smile_  about?" Gabe Jones, another prisoner, asked Bucky. “You hit your head, or are you just crazy?

Bucky let out a little chuckle. “Those my only options?”

Gabe shrugged. “Only two that make sense.”

He flipped the photo of Anna around, so Gabe could see it. “Her name’s Anna.”

The black soldier smiled and raised his brows as he reached for the picture. Bucky let him take it, the smile still on his face.

The man on the other side of Gabe gave a low whistle as the photograph was passed to him. "Sure is a looker."

"Smart, too," Bucky said, feeling no shame in bragging about his Glow.

"She’s workin' for some doctor, makin' something that supposed to help us win the war," Bucky explained, watching carefully as the other men in his cell passed the picture around until it got back to him. Gabe and a few other guys nodded, looking impressed.

A guy in the next cell snorted. " _Yeah_ , some _dame_ is gonna bat her eyelashes at Hitler and he's gonna order all his tanks be driven into the ocean."

"You know, I broke a guy's ribs back home for sayin' stuff like that about Annie," Bucky said calmly looking at the man over his shoulder. When he got no response, like he expected, he turned back and looking at the picture again. Bucky traced a dirty thumb around the curve of Anna’s chin, then flipped it over to look at the words written on the back in feminine, loopy writing.

_To Bucky_

_From Glow_

He tucked it back into his waistband and covered the letter bundle it with his sweater again.

Anna Brightman, the chemist that was working on a top-secret that would change the path of the war. 

 _Glow_ , Bucky thought as he leaned more heavily against the bars and let the exhaustion take over his body. His eyes fell shut, and he fell asleep with a faint smile on his face. _The light at the end of this damn tunnel_.

* * *

 _Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right._ Bucky numbly thought over and over, he was so exhausted he had to keep reminding himself how to walk.

Turns out the HYDRA bastards didn't want the captured Allied troops to rot in cells after all; they wanted them to build their weapons for them.

Bucky was _helping_ to build _weapons_ that would _kill_ other Americans, other people who wanted to get them out of here, and the thought made him sick, literally, a few times.

The HYDRA soldiers made each man sit down and take some sort of pencil-paper test to weed out the ‘smart’ ones, who were assigned to do the actual putting together and more delicate circuitry work. Bucky, however, was as defiant as the day he arrived, refused to take it. He simply sat in the room staring at the masked monitor for half an hour before he was dragged out, smacked around, and tossed back in his cell. Being a strong young man when he arrived, Bucky was assigned to push, pull and haul hunks of metal and equipment from place to place.

Feeling a stinging ache in his lower back, Bucky dropped the piece of metal he was carrying and stretched. The pops and cracks that came from his back and joints were loud and sounded almost painful. He got looks of empathy from some nearby men. Having been here for three months, they all had sore backs from sleeping against iron bars, a good amount of broken ribs and bruises from the damn Germans, and perpetually growling stomachs.

After getting the stink eye from an armed guard, Bucky rolled his eyes and lifted the heavy metal piece again.

The guard must have seen him roll his eyes, because Bucky hardly made it five feet before he felt the butt of a rifle smash into his back, just between his neck and shoulder blade. It sent pain radiating down his back and up through his neck, making him fall to his knees. Bracing his hands on the piece of metal, he managed to keep his torso off the ground. His eyes were pinched shut in pain as his head lolled forward.

He flinched and made an irritated sound, not too dissimilar from a growl, when a gloved hand felt around his neck for the dog tags he wore.

" _James B. Barnes_ ," a German voice said, butchering his All-American name.

"The one and only," Bucky said through clenched teeth, glaring up at the man in charge through his greasy hair, which _desperately_ needed a trim. He'd been the one yelling orders and in the black duster when he got here. It only took a few days to realize that he was the man in charge, and a few weeks to figure out he was called ‘Schmidt.’ They had plenty of derogatory nicknames for him within an hour.

The man sneered at him, then threw Bucky's tags down in distaste.

“You were the one who refused to take the aptitude test,” Schmidt stated. The permeant frown on his face deepened, and his irritation came through clearly.

“Never been good at tests,” Bucky responded, slowly raising to his feet. Schmidt and him were about the same height, so Bucky was able to look him dead on. “Even if I was, I wouldn’t so much as pick up my own shit if you asked me too, let alone a pencil.”

Four blows were dealt to Bucky in rapid succession; one to the face, and three to the stomach. On his knees again, Bucky gasped for air while holding his stomach with one hand, the other braced on the metal. Blood dropped from his lip, but he made no move to lick or rub it away. He didn’t have the every to.

“You best learn that the only way you will survive this, is by developing a healthy fear of HYDRA,” Schmidt snarled, giving Bucky a swift kick to the ribs with his boot, sending the man to his back. What air Bucky had managed to suck into his lungs left in a gust out his mouth as he landed on his back. He laid there, gasping for air for a moment before starting to push himself up by his elbows. Schmidt stopped him by stepping on his chest, his boot pressing down on Bucky’s sternum so hard he thought it would snap. The steel-toed tip was near his chin, and the hard corners of the heel pressed down on his lower chest.

“What? You want me to lick your boot?” Bucky gasped out, glaring at the man who stood over him. Black dots began to cloud his vision from lack of oxygen, but he didn’t let on to that. “’Cause I sure as hell ain’t that rollie-pollie fella with the glasses. God knows how _eager_ he is to _please you_.”

For a moment, those who were watching the interaction thought Schmidt would kick up at Bucky’s chin, which would most likely break his neck and kill him. Instead, Schmidt removed his foot from Bucky’s chest and leaned down to grab a handful of the dirty sweater he wore. Hauling him up from the ground, the HYDRA officer gave the American three more harsh hits to the face before tossing him towards the metal he had been carrying.

It was almost five minutes before Bucky managed to stand again. He pulled the cuff of his sweater over his palm to wipe the blood off his face, then gripped the piece of metal again.

Men nearby, while continuing what they were doing, looked at Bucky with poorly hidden awe. There were lots of smart-mouthed soldiers at the beginning, and new ones arrived all the time, but their spunk was beaten out of them quickly. But not Bucky. Every beating only made his taunts and remarks that much more offensive and more harsh, and he always just stood back up after they were done. Some men wondered how the hell Bucky Barnes was still alive after all the abuse he took.

Bucky brought the metal to the area he was supposed to and leaned over as he dropped it down. He leaned forward, letting his palms rest on the metal piece as he caught his breath. His ears were still ringing slightly from the blows to the head he’d been given, but he deemed himself mostly alright after the whole thing.

Suddenly, there was a lot of shouting in German.

Bucky found himself being yanked back by two HYDRA, one holding each arm, while the other yanked the back of his sweater up. He closed his eyes and cursed himself for his stupidity; his sweater had had ridden up when he leaned over, exposing the envelope tucked into the waistband at the back of his pants.

A HYDRA soldier was now in front of him, holding up the letter and yelling in his face in German, a language Bucky didn’t have a prayer of understanding, nor did he have the mental energy to pick out the few phrases he did know. He just stood there, slack in the grip of the men holding his arms, staring blankly ahead. He thought about the letters. He thought about Anna. He let the memory of her shyly bouncing up to kiss his cheek consume his thoughts, and almost managed to block out the environment around him.

A sharp smack to the cheek brought him back.

A gloved hand shoved the photograph of Anna into his face. “She is a very pretty girl, James.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched with annoyance at the use of his full name, and with anger as he say how some of the HYDRA soldiers looked a bit too interested in the picture. “Sure is…Most beautiful thing ‘ta come outta New York City.”

Schmidt chuckled at Bucky’s words, and turned the photograph towards himself, his dark eyes looking intently at the girl in the picture. “Do you love her?”

Bucky said nothing.

“I can only assume you love her very much, if you are willing to risk your life for her letter and a simple photograph,” the officer continued. Bucky tipped his chin up defiantly. “What is her name?”

The American swallowed thickly. That particular letter was the first, and only letter Anna sent him that she signed with ‘Glow’ instead of her name.

“ _Bette Davis_ ,” Bucky answered sarcastically.

Schmidt pretended to be amused at the name of the famous film star, then grabbed Bucky by the throat. “ _I want you to tell me her name._ ”

Gasping and choking for air, Bucky still managed to spit out a smart response. “Well then you’re shit outta luck, pal, ‘cause I’d rather die than tell you a _damn thing_ about her.”

Schmidt and Bucky glared at each other for a time, during which the entire wing of the plant was silent. Every man was either watching the ordeal, listening to it, or whispering what was happening to others.

“Very well,” Schmidt finally said. He barked out something in German, and Bucky then found himself being dragged towards the doors on his heels.  As much as he resisted and fought, Bucky was too weak to break the grip of the two HYDRA holding onto him. The profanity he spewed out could be heard clearly through the wing of the plant.

All the captured soldiers remained silent. A few who spoke German whispered what Schmidt ordered his soldiers to do; take Bucky outside and shoot him.

It was a heartbreaking order for the captured men to hear. Bucky was one of the few who refused to be broken. No matter what they did to him, he always managed to find humor in something and smile through the blood and pain. And the way he talked about his girl, Anna, like she was the good thing waiting for him at the end of it all, what he had to live for—it gave them _all_ something to live for.

And knowing he was going to be shot like a dog; it was just something they couldn't understand.

* * *

Outside, Bucky was still cursing and swearing loudly. When his feet were put back on the ground, he finally got a burst of adrenaline. He swung his fists wildly at the HYDRA soldiers holding him, managing to land a few solid hits. He writhed and tried to force his limbs free from their tight grasp, but he wasn’t strong enough. One got a grip on his throat, forcing Bucky to stop fighting due to a lack of air.

In broken English, Bucky was ordered to get on his knees. He clenched his jaw defiantly, and remained standing. If he was going to die, he was going to die on his feet. Two pairs of hands pressed down on his shoulders, trying to force him to the ground. Bucky locked his joints and pushed up against the hands with the muscles in his legs for as long as he could, but then a third pair of hands pushed down on his shoulders. He felt something popped in his leg and a sharp pain shot up his thigh. The pain and the pressure from the soldiers got Bucky on his knees in the mud.

Two soldiers kept hands on his shoulders, even though he was in no condition to run, and the third readied his rifle.

"I have been waiting for this time, you _stupid_ _American_ **_dog_** ,” a HYDRA soldier with a heavy German accent, muffled by the mask, snarled down at Bucky. The cold barrel of the rifle dug into his forehead, just above his left eyebrow.

If Bucky was going to die, he wasn’t going to go quietly.

“What? Need a guy on his knees ‘ta put’im down?” He shouted up at the soldier. His voice was rough and dry, and it hurt to speak at that volume, bit that didn’t stop Bucky. “Need me to close my eyes? Want me to look away? If you think I’m your enemy this should be easy for you, huh? ‘Cause that’s what you HYDRA do! Isn’t it? Kill innocent people when they can’t defend them-!”

The doors from the factory slammed open, making everyone look their way. Bucky was gasping from breath after his yelling, and gulped audibly when he saw Schmidt and the stout scientist approach him and the soldiers surrounding him.

“Make him stand!” Schmidt barked, gesturing harshly at Bucky as he marched through the mud.

Bucky was pulled up from under his arms and stumbled slightly as he stood. He swayed slightly on his feet, favoring his left leg. After he shook his head and blinked a few times, Bucky managed to stand up straighter, and face Schmidt with a stoic, defiant expression.

The picture of Anna was shoved in his face. "The return address says _Anna Brightman_. That address it to a military base. What does she do for the American army?”

In pain and a little confused, Bucky mumbled out a response. “She-She’s a chemist…A lab assistant on some project.”

"Does she work for Dr. Abraham Erskine?" Schmidt demanded.

The name rang a bell in Bucky’s head, but a surge of protectiveness and adrenaline made him less compliant to answer this time. “You know what, I don’t think I wanna tell you a damn thing more about An-!”

Schmidt grabbed Bucky by the throat and lifted his booted feet off the ground. “What you _want_ is _irrelevant_.”

Bucky was grabbing at Schmidt’s gloved hand, his nails scratching at the material of his coat as he struggled to get any air. “You _will_ tell me all you know about Anna’s work.

Although his face was contorted as he gasped for air, Bucky managed to wheeze out “ _Fuck you._ ”

Schmidt only laughed and dropped Bucky unceremoniously. He fell to the ground, one hand keeping him out of the dirt while the other grasped his throat. He took loud gasps and let out rattling coughs as he greedily took in oxygen. He lifted his head just enough to look at Schmidt through his hair. Bucky’s blue eyes were determined and cold. “I…I’ll die…Before…I-I tell…You…A _damn_ th- _thing_ …About my… _My_ _Glow_ …You- _You_ … _You Nazi bastard_.”

Schmidt gave Bucky a swift kick in the stomach with the hard toe of his boot, sending the man onto his side, clutching his midsection as he gasped in pain.

“You say that now, but I’m sure Dr. Zola can persuade you,” Schmidt said casually. He gave a sharp order in German, and the soldiers indicated they understood before lifting Bucky out of the mud.

One of the men called attention to the door.

Others looked and saw two HYDRA soldiers each taking an arm of a limp Bucky Barnes while a third followed them with a gun. Each soldier had a hand under Bucky’s arms, his torso was angled towards the ground, his head lolled forward, and his legs trailed behind them.

The captured men stopped their work and began whispering amongst themselves.

"Is he dead?"

“C’mon Barnes, _move_.”

“Are you sure it’s him? There’s a whole ‘nother building to the East.”

“Move over—I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Oh that poor gal ‘a his…She ain’t even gonna get a body to bury…”

The HYDRA soldiers began ascending a set of stairs, still dragging Bucky. When his shins hit edge of a concrete step, he stirred. Bucky let out a grunt and some mumbled swear words.

Some men let out a sigh of relief, others chuckled at his word choice, but all were glad Bucky Barnes was still among the living.

Soon, though, the HYDRA soldiers had dragged him out of sight for many of the men on the plant floor.

Men up in the scaffolding, assembling the actual bombs, send word down the line of where Bucky was headed last they saw of them.

“ _Looks like he’s going to the third floor corridor._ ”

"What happened on the third floor?" A young soldier asked; he couldn't be more than 18, younger if he lied and enlisted.

A man close by answered. “Dunno…No one's ever come back from it."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midterms are kicking my ass and my extended family officially puts the 'fun' in dysfunctional.   
> Sorry for the wait, but shit has been crazy.

_Anna_

I pinched my eyes shut and leaned over the barrel again, dry heaving into it. I’d already tossed up everything in my stomach, but it kept churning.

"You _sure_ you're ok?" Howard asked behind me.

"I-I'm  _fine_ ," I insisted, standing up and wiping my mouth. "I _don't_ like flying. And after  _you_  playing fighter pilot while we're being shot at, I'm not sure I'll ever get on a plane again."

"Aw, it wasn't that bad," Howard pouted.

" _Lordy_  I don't think I've  _ever_  been so scared I was gonna die," I said, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "And I've been  _shot_."

“You said Billy’s buddy flew you two around all the time,” Howard reminded me. “You didn’t shout groceries in that poor boy’s lap, did you?”

“Joe Schwartz had a very nice, very clean passenger plane that seated six people counting the pilots,” I half-snapped as I threw off my coat. “It was meant to carry people and had leather seats and proper buckles and it wasn’t wobbling in the air and being shot at!”

Howard just rolled his eyes at me, and returned to the piece of machinery he was playing with.

When Howard, Peggy and I returned, we all got a verbal lashing from Phillips that would go down in history. The representative of the senator who’d set up Steve’s war bond tour was quite displeased as well, but he went a bit too far and was now sporting a broken nose, thanks to Peggy. The remaining men on the 107th had the most surprising reaction; I expected them to be grateful someone had gone to get their brothers’ in arms, but they instead sat around telling outrageous stories about how they think Steve, ‘ _the war bond boy with the song_ ’ died behind enemy lines, how he wasn’t even in the army, and that he would probably do more harm than good.

It had been almost 24 hours since we left, and there had been no communication from Steve via the radio he had. The receiver continued to give off static in the back of Howard’s tent where we were. Every now and then, one of us would hush the other because we thought we heard something.

While Howard continued to tinker, I sat in a plush chair nearby. When I first saw that Howard was bringing an armchair overseas, the first thing I did was tell Peggy about it so we could have a good laugh. The genius defended his actions by saying he ‘ _thought best in that chair’_ , which only made us laugh harder. I was grateful he brought the chair into a war zone now, though, so I had somewhere to curl up and wait for news.

"Do you think he'll bring them all back?" I asked quietly, pulling my legs up onto the chair and resting my chin on my knees and hugging my shins.

Howard had been trying to fit the original metal cover onto the machine he had been tinkering on, but it looked like the alterations he’d made stuck out too much, and the cover kept getting caught on a spoke. In a fit of frustration, Howard threw the metal cover to the floor. It made a loud _CLANG!_ against the wood laid down as a floor, and bounced once, sending it through the tent flaps.

Breathing a little heavier than normal due to his outburst, Howard crossed his arms and leaned a hip on the table.

“Yeah…Yeah, Steve’ll find ‘em all,” he sighed, then ran a hand through his hair. “He has to.”

* * *

Omniscient POV

Bucky had been offered a spot to sit on one of the tanks or trucks that had been liberated from the HYDRA camp, but he chose instead to walk next to Steve at the front of the pack. Although he was breathing heavy, favoring his left leg, and the strap of the large weapon he carried was digging into his neck, Bucky remained at Steve’s side.

It was still hard to wrap his head around the fact that Steve—short, sickly, small, asthmatic  _Steve_ —was now a shield wielding hero. It wasn't the hero part Bucky was having trouble grasping, it was the fact that Steve was now at least half a foot taller than him and outweighed him by  _at least_  75 pounds, maybe more since Bucky wasn't exactly well fed in his current state.

"You feelin' ok?" Steve asked his friend. His sharp ears, no longer ringing from mild tinnitus, could hear the shallow, rattling breaths his friend was taking.

Bucky just shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the one hundred or so men walking behind them, and the vehicles and tanks they'd snatched on the way out.

"Fine…Fine…" He said dismissively.

After a few more paces, Steve spoke up, but kept his voice low so only Bucky could hear. “Hey, back when I found you on the table, what were you mumbling? It was the same thing over and over.” He’d been itching to ask the question since they got out of the compound and couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Although he was dirty and exhausted, a smirk that met his eyes brightened Bucky’s face. “A poem.”

"A  _poem_ ," Steve repeated flatly, then laughed. "Who are you, and what have you done with my friend who failed English?"

"Hey,  _almost_  failed—I _almost_ failed English," Bucky corrected him, pointing a finger at him as he did so, matching Steve’s grin. "And what’s so weird about that? Can’t I read a poem?”

"Well, I'm not saying _that_ …Just didn’t seem like the last place you stayed would’a had a good library,” Steve said, an amused, sarcastic tone coloring his voice.

The pair shared a brief laugh before Bucky gave an answer. “I read it a few months back, when I was in basic.”

The blond looked at his best friend with narrowed eyes and a knowing smile. "You read it for Anna, didn't you?"

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that I read a damn poem?" Bucky asked defensively. He still felt odd talking about Annie; they weren't really going steady, or together in any way to be honest, but he felt so  _protective_  of her.

"'Cause _I know you_ ," Steve said simply, bring Bucky back from the daze he seemed to have fallen into that he hoped his friend didn’t notice. He did. "You  _sure_  you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Steve," Bucky sighed. "Is this how _I_ was _you_ were sick?"

"Oh, you were _worse_ ," Steve chuckled.

"Shut up…'ya little punk." Bucky mumbled, a little smile on his face.

A few minutes later, Steve made an offhanded remark that made Bucky blush harder than Steve had ever seen. “You must be carrying one Hell'a'va torch for Anna if you memorized a poem for her.”

"You bet your ass I am," Bucky mumbled, not looking at the blond.

“Well, you’re gonna wanna clean up a bit before you see her.”

Bucky let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh God I wish I could see her…But I’ll bet a months’ pay I’m gonna be shuffled around between hospitals before I get back stateside, that is if they don’t make me finish my time here, first.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I mean—Weren’t you _listening_ to me earlier?”

“Of course I was!” Bucky said defensively. He got a look from Steve, which was a bit more intimidating than it used to be. “Well, I thought I was…What’d you say earlier?”

Steve smirked and turned to look forwards as they walked. “Don’t know if I wanna tell you now.”

The obnoxiously loud groan Bucky let out made Steve, and quite a few others, full on laugh. Bucky made a few swear-laden comments about the whole thing, and gave Steve a shove. “Fine, don’t tell me, you big _baby_.”

Putting an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, Steve managed to stop laughing. “I was telling you about what’s all at the camp we’re goin’ too…The rest of the 107th, a gaggle of chorus girls…And Howard Stark is there, with a few of the people who work for him.”

Not seeing how any of this connected to seeing Anna, Bucky frowned as he thought; Steve could practically hear the gears turning in his head. He almost made a comment asking if he got more stupid shoved into his head while he was away, but quickly decided against it.

Suddenly, a look of disbelief crossed Bucky’s face, and he whipped his head around to look at Steve. “Annie’s workin’ for him, now, Stark, I mean—The general kicked her to the curb and Stark brought her back in.”

Steve just smiled wide at what Bucky’s words implicated, and how he reacted when they sunk in. He had more of spring in his step, the remains of a smile stayed on his face, and he stood taller.

Why wouldn’t he, though?

His Glow was waiting on him.

* * *

_Anna_

I felt like I had only just drifted to sleep when Howard grabbed both my shoulders and shook me awake.

“Anna! Wake up, doll! You’re gonna wanna see this!” He half-shouted, with a grin on his face. He threw my coat at my face, and then helped me into it when I wasn’t moving fast enough.

“C’mon, sweetheart!” Howard said, still grinning, as he grabbed my hand and dragged me through the crowd of soldiers, nurses and other bystanders that was growing around the entrance to the camp. He pushed his way to a truck, and helped me stand up in the bed of it with him and some other scientists he employed. From the raised bed of the truck, I could see a large group of men entering the camp. They were all battle worn and looked exhausted, but they looked like they were all close to tears from happiness.

“ _He made it_ , Anna!” Howard said over the din of people.

The words made me grin. When I saw the dented metal helmet with a white ‘A’ painted on it, I let out a laugh and put my hands over my mouth in surprise as tears welled up in my eyes. Not only did Steve return, but he _saved people_ , and saving people was the reason Dr. Erskine did all he did.

" _Hey! Let's hear it for Captain America!_ "

It took a moment for the voice to register, but when it did, I lept off the truck bed and began searching the crowd. I had to know if I was hearing things, or if _he was really here_.

It took nearly ten minutes of searching before I saw a familiar shade of chocolate brown hair. I pushed my way to the man, grabbed his shoulders and spun him around. He seemed a bit disoriented from the quick movement, and as he got his bearings I looked him over; tears came soon after.

 _Bucky_.

He was still broad shouldered and tall but, looked more lanky than I remembered him being. His face was unshaven, streaked with dirt and grime, and there were a few bruises and what looked like a small burn blossoming on his cheeks. Those cerulean blue eyes sat in sunken sockets, but they were still bright and full of life. It only took me a few seconds of looking over him to decide to hug him.

After I threw my arms around his midsection, Bucky made a soft noise of surprise, then wrapped his arms around me as well, lowering his head to press a soft, quick kiss to my head.

“Hi Bucky,” I said, my voice warbling slightly against his ratty sweater that I pressed my face into.

“Hi Annie,” Bucky responded, his lips moving in my hair.

I made myself step back from him, and quickly wiped my face free of any tears that hadn’t been soaked up by his sweater. He looked at me like he always did, with bright eyes and a little half-smirk, while I gawked up at him with a girlish smile.

"So…What brings you to the middle of a war zone?" Bucky asked me casually.

“Work, I guess,” I admitted through breathless laughs.

We just stared at each other, basking in each others presence for who knows how long. I didn’t look away from his eyes until I noticed him shift on his feet, eliciting a hiss of pain.

"You should go get checked out by the doctors," I blurted out suddenly, getting on my tip toes to search for a medic, nurse or doctor. “Oh, oh I should have made you do that first, not just-just _stared at you_ -”

"Nah, nah I'm fine,” Bucky insisted, moving to his right leg supported most of his weight. “Some'a these guys lost arms and stuff, they need the help more than I do…I'm just a little tired.”

"No…No, c'mon, I'm sure there’s someone who can just take a look at you now," I said, gently grasping his sleeve and tugging, signaling him to follow me.

My little tug made him completely fall forward. "Oh!  _Bucky_!"

Steve swooped in just in time, catching his friend before he fell in the dirt. “I gotcha, I gotcha—Annie, is there someone who can-”

"That's just what I was telling him, come over here," I said, starting to hurry through the men to one of the smaller medic tents off to the side. I held the flap open as Steve pulled a protesting Bucky into the tent and gently dropping him on a cot. There were only a few other men in the tent, all of them already treated and waiting to be shuttled out for a stay at a proper hospital.

"I'll get a doctor-" Steve started.

"No, no I can do a basic check-up,” I said quickly as I riffled through the metal sets of drawers for the supplies I’d need. “I’ve been training with Dr. Matt—The doctor who was working with Dr. Erskine and me—I can give him a look-see and get a doctor right away if anything is wrong.”

Steve looked from me, to Bucky on the cot, still insisting he was fine, then gave me a nod.

“Let me know if he gives you any trouble, Annie,” the blond said teasingly as he left, eliciting a sarcastic laugh from Bucky.

Once Steve left, I turned to look back at Bucky. He was propped up on his elbows on the cot Steve dumped him on, a lazy half-smirk on his face as he looked up at me.

Bucky stayed pretty quiet as I conducted my exam. He sat up when I needed to press the stethoscope to his back, gave me a wink when I listened to his heart, giggled when I felt under his jaw for his lymph nodes, and made it hard for me to concentrate in general.

“Does anything hurt?” I asked him as I cleaned his face with saline; I needed to see what marks were bruises and which ones were dirt smears. As I gently rubbed the gauze pad, dampened with cool saline, Bucky’s eyelids started to droop. He’d held out longer than I expected; his adrenaline was _finally_ starting to wear off.

"Yeah, my heart 'cause a dame from Manhattan didn't cry when she saw me."

I rolled my eyes. “C’mon, none’a that now. Does anything hurt?"

"C'mon, what do I have to do to get a couple'a tears? Huh?" He asked, a silly grin on his face as he fell back to lean on his elbows again.

"James Barnes!" I huffed in frustration, grabbing his hand on instinct and giving it a tight squeeze. “ _Does anything hurt?_ ”

Aside from a moment of irritation by me using his proper name, Bucky seemed a bit surprised. His full-lipped mouth went slack and his blue eyes widened a little as he looked at me.

“W-Well…My left leg is botherin’ me a bit, and-and there’s this spot on my neck that’s a little stiff and tingly,” he answered, his tone lacking its usual confidence and charm. Bucky sounded _exhausted_.

"Ok,” I said with a little nod. “I’ll look at your neck first—Sit up again, would you?”

He did what I asked and I kneeled on the cot behind him to be at a height that would let me get a proper look at his neck. He flinched a bit when I pulled the neck of his ratty sweater down, so I put my free hand on his shoulder to comfort him. I jumped a little when he reached up and grasped my hand gently, weaving our fingers together loosely, like it was the most normal thing in the world. I continued to examine his neck which a blush on my cheeks I was glad he couldn’t see.

At the base of his neck, where it met his right shoulder, there was a small area that seemed cleaner than the rest of Bucky’s skin, aside from some small points of dried blood. It was swollen slightly, but didn’t look all that bad. I felt around the spot gently, feeling for else out of the ordinary. I gently prodded a pin-prick mark.

" _Jeez_  woman! Warn me before you do that!" Bucky yelped quickly. The grip on my hand tightened to a near fist, making me squeal in slight pain at the same time he was startled.

Bucky dropped my hand and spun around to see me cradling the hand he’d been holding; he looked absolutely horrified. “I-I—Good God, Anna I’m so sorry. Glow, I swear I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, Bucky, it’s fine,” I said, reaching out to put a hand on his forearm. I gave him a reassuring smile, but he seemed to refuse to look at my face. I brought the hand he grabbed a bit too tight to his cheek, and _that_ made him look at me. “It just startled me, really, I’m fine.”

“I’m still sorry,” he mumbled, gently taking the hand off his cheek, holding it in both his large, dirty, rough hands. Bucky’s fingers played with my hand; he was probably hoping I wouldn’t notice that he was checking to make sure it wasn’t injured. “Just…Just wasn’t expecting that. How it felt when you poked my neck in that spot—Hurt more than I thought it would.”

My brows furrowed as I slipped back into a more clinical mindset. “What kind of pain was it? Stinging? Throbbing?”

Bucky paused, his brows furrowing in thought for a moment. “It was like a-a burning, like when you get a tetanus shot but worse.”

When I stood from the cot and broke contact with Bucky, he pouted a little as I wrote on the medical card I’d started for him earlier. “I’ll have to draw some blood, after I look at your leg.”

He let out a groan. “Aw, d’ya have to? I’m _sick_ ’a seein’ _needles_.”

“Unless you saw a label on what they injected you with, yes, I do need to draw blood,” I said, my tone light and playful like his. When he didn’t respond, I looked up from the medical card. He didn’t see me look up; Bucky was staring off into space with a stoic, vacant look on his face and his jaw clenched.

I reached out and put a hand on his uninjured knee. “Hey, are you alright?”

It was like his whole body twitched, and Bucky looked back at me with the casual smile he’d had on his face the whole time I examined him. “Yeah, yeah I’m alright…Just thinkin’ how I’ve never had a better nurse.”

I ducked my head as I blushed softly. “Lay back, would you? I’m gonna look at your leg.”

Bucky fell back on the cot with a grunt, and folded one arm behind his head, letting the other one fall over his torso. I pulled a stool over to sit near his thigh, and I caught sight of the back of his hand. The knuckles were bruised, scabbed, and a couple of his fingers looked a bit more crooked than they ought to have been. I looked away quickly and put my hands on his knee. I pressed in a few places, asked some questions, asked him to bend his leg at the knee, point and flatten his foot—As through of an exam as I could do without asking him to take off his trousers. The very thought of that made me blush so hard Bucky made a little comment about it. It was most likely just a strained ligament, but I’d have a proper doctor look at it later. For now, I got bandages and wrapped his knee up tight over his trousers.

“I’m just gonna draw some blood now,” I told him, raising to my feet to get a needle, some vials, and a rubber ribbon to use as a tourniquet. “I want them to run every test they can, so I’ll have to take more than one vial.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly and tried to sit up. “Oh, don’t sit up—Stay on your back. You’re not in the best shape, and I won’t be able to catch you if you fall forwards.” He didn’t argue.

He brought his hand out from behind his head and laid it next to his side, staring down at it as I began to roll his sleeve up to get to the crease of his elbow. I frowned a little, then leaned over to lift his other arm off his stomach. I pulled the sleeve back, and looked at the other elbow crease. My brows furrowed at what I was seeing.

“I kept rippin’ it out.”

I looked back to Bucky, who’s own gaze was on the large bruises on the inside of his arms.

“Wh-What?” I asked softly, putting his arm down.

“Doc—The man—… _They_ kept putting a needle on a line into my arms,” Bucky said, his voice was emotionless and quiet. “I kept finding ways to rip it out…Think that’s why they started stickin’ me in the neck, I couldn’t do anything to get it out.”

All I could managed was a soft “Oh.”

I pushed his sleeve up higher, and tied the rubber ribbon high on his bicep. I poked and prodded, and eventually found a vein. I reached for the sterilized needle, but stopped myself. “Don’t look, ok? When I stick you, don’t look—Don’t even look at me—Just look up at the tent.”

Bucky silently did what I asked.

I pushed the sharp point of the needle under his skin, and the muscles in his arm tensed. I put my free hand on his forearm, rubbing circles on his skin until the muscles relaxed. I pulled the tourniquet free and watched the vial fill with blood.

“…I was strapped to a table…”

The whispered words made me look away from the needle briefly. Bucky was looking up at the top of the tent with that stoic, vacant expression again.

“…When it was in my arms, the line ran up by my head and I strained my neck to bite it and shook my head hard until it came out…”

If he was willing to talk about it, even vaguely, I needed to ask a question or two. “Do…Do you know what they were trying to do? What types of things they injected you with? Stimulants to keep you awake? Something to knock you out? A cocktail that was supposed to be truth serum?”

It was a long while before I got an answer. So long, that I had to put a new vial in the needle. When he spoke again, his voice was different. It wasn’t the quiet whispers and his face had emotion again. He sounded more like himself, but much more tired; his speech was slow and starting to slur slightly. “Don’t remember much…Only thing I'm  _pretty_   _sure_  happened was Steve finding me babblin' on about a Bandersnatch before he _literally_ ripped me off the table."

My brows furrowed, but before I could say anything, Bucky started talking again. " _That_ was one Hell’a’va shock, seein’ Steve all big ‘nd tall…Thought I was hallucinating until the next morning when he was still big, the factory had exploded and I was still alive.”

He seemed to fine some humor in what he said, because he laughed a little at the end, but I didn’t find anything about it funny. "Yeah..." I said quietly, exchanging the full vial of blood for an empty one again.

What he said sunk in, and I couldn’t hold back a question. "Did-Did you say  _Bandersnatch_? Steve found you babbling about a _Banderstatch?_ ”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky sighed with a lazy smile. He folded his other arm behind his head, and looked at me with a tired grin and half-lidded eyes.

"From the Jabberwocky?"

"Yeah," Bucky confirmed lazily, looking at me with those blue eyes that, even when exhausted, had a charming, boyish glint in them. "Figured with you being so smart, I needed something to talk to you about when we went out dancing."

"Dancing?" I asked, giggling a little as I put the last empty vial into the needle. Three would have been enough to test for everything I wanted, but I was taking four, just in case. I didn’t want to have to draw more later if I didn’t have to.

"Uh-huh," Bucky sighed, quirking that smirk up at me. "You're the smartest gal I know, Glow. Couldn't just twirl you around and have nuthin' to say."

"Now, who said anything about twirling?" I asked, pulling the needle out of his arm. I quickly taped a square of gauze to the puncture and peeked up at him shyly before turning away.

"Aw, you're breakin' muh' heart here, Glow," Bucky teased lightly.

I let out a soft laugh as I made sure all four vials were sealed properly, then dropped them into the padded medical envelope. I wrote the necessary information on it, but jumped when I felt something tug gently on my hair. It had been pulled up hours ago, but with all the activity, most of it was now hanging loose. Bucky had lazily propped his arm up just enough to play with my curls, a dazed smiled on his face as he moved his dirty fingers through the strands.

I quickly finished the envelope and turned back to him. “Bucky? Are you alright?”

He let out a heavy sigh, eyes half closed and a lazy grin on his face. “You got really pretty hair, Glow…'s so soft 'n curly 'n shiny... ”

I blushed softly at the comments, but I had to brush it aside. I couldn't hold back a soft giggle of amusement, though. 

"Bucky," I said, trying to snap him out of the daze he was in as best I could, putting my hand on his cheek. I pulled his hand away from my hair. "Bucky, you've been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours. Just-Just go and get a good meal and sleep a while."

"Then dancing?" He asked, his eyes barely open.

"Then we'll  _discuss_  dancing," I confirmed to placate him. I turned away just long enough to put the envelope with Bucky’s blood in the mail crate in the tent, and when I came back, his head was lolled to one side and he was sound asleep.

I took the time to look over his face—He looked to young, but was already so battle worn.

* * *

Omniscient POV

Steve ducked into the tent Bucky was sound asleep in. Anna had grabbed him as he passed by, saying that Bucky had fallen asleep and he couldn’t really stay in the medical tent.

“Alright pal,” Steve said, mildly amused, as he tried to wake Bucky from his deep slumber. “Time to get movin.’ Can’t have your lazy ass takin’ up room in a hospital tent.”

Finally, Bucky grunted and shook Steve’s hand off him, only to reach a hand out to help him stand. He limply let Steve pull him up and pull his arm over his shoulders, practically taking all of Bucky's weight as they stumbled towards an empty bunk.

"Annie is kinda a real doctor now, ‘ya know? A people-fixin' doctor, not a sorta-kinda, all thinkin' type a doctor," Bucky mumbled as he was pulled into a new tent. He looked up at his newly-tall friend with a goofy, half-conscious smile.

"I didn't," Steve said, hoisting Bucky off his shoulders and onto a cot.

Bucky groaned as he squirmed around on the canvas. Eventually, he wrapped his arms under the pillow and buried his face in it. It was far from the best place to get sleep, but it was all but heaven to the exhausted soldier.

Steve tossed a blanket over his friend, and was about to leave, when Bucky spoke again. It was slurred, and his eyes were closed, but there was a smile on his slack mouth.

"I'm gonna _marry_ that girl one day.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait--College is a real bitch.

I was waiting for the results of Bucky's blood test, and with nothing else to do, I was pacing around Howard's workshop-tent.

"Will you just _sit down?_ " Howard finally asked, looking up from the charred remains of files salvaged from the HYDRA factory that had been blown to high heaven. He was trying to figure out what they had been building, and how the things worked.

"I  _can't_  sit down!" I said, frustrated.

"I can't  _do_  anything!" I added, throwing my hands up. “I sent Bucky's blood out _two_ days ago and wouldn't have the results for a few  _weeks_. I need a real lab to do any more with the serum, and you won't let me help _you_! So,  _what_  should I do?"

"You could get me a cuppa' coffee," Howard mumbled. I stopped my pacing and glared at him. Howard, realizing his mistake, slowly looked up.

"Please?" He added weakly.

"You're lucky I don't have anything else to do, Howard Stark," I muttered, making my way out of the tent to head for the small building on wheels that served as a kitchen.

"Annie!" I heard someone call. I turned around from the box I was getting a mug out of and saw Bucky jogging towards me. He was in cadet greens and had a bowl of that appeared to be oatmeal in his hand.

"Hi," I said, trying to force the grin off my face. It was so good to see him up and around; he’d done nothing but sleep for the first 36 hours he was at the camp.

When he was standing next to me, we sort of just smiled at one another and didn’t say anything. It was like he suddenly realized this and shook his head.

"Steve told me you sent my blood off to some lab," he blurted, using the back of his wrist to wipe his chin, making sure he didn't have any oatmeal on it I'm sure. “What’re they lookin’ for?”

"Just any abnormalities,” I explained as I poured two mugs of coffee. “We should know what you were given, so you can be treated for any potential symptoms, and just for peace of mind. I won’t receive the results for a few more weeks, though.”

As I spoke, I noticed how Bucky’s eyes intently watched my hands and followed the movements as I poured cream and two spoons of sugar into each mug. I almost laughed at how he looked at the coffee so longingly. "Want a cup?" I asked slowly, lifting the coffee pot a little.

"Uh…No…No, can't," Bucky mumbled, shoving another spoonful of the soupy oatmeal into his mouth. I looked at him questioningly, expecting more of an explanation.

"Been livin' on stale bread and something that tasted like cheese and looked like old meat. Doc said nothin' too rich, gave me and the other guys a list a'stuff we can't have for a few days," he sighed and stirred his soupy oatmeal again.

"But _Lord alive_ …I'd give my left arm for a plate of eggs and hash browns right now. And syrup. Lots and  _lots_  of syrup," he added wistfully.

Hiding my small smile, I nodded in understanding. My gaze drifted to the cabinet next to the coffee maker, then to the oatmeal bowl Bucky held. Do you mind?" I asked, gesturing to the bowl. Bucky looked down at the lumpy, soupy mixture, then back up at me with an almost amused look on his face.

"Sure. Have at it," Bucky chuckled, holding the bowl out to me.

I set it on the counter and grabbed a few things from the cabinet. I stirred a couple things into the lumpy breakfast food, then handed it back to Bucky. “Try this.”

"A little sugar isn't gonna make this horse feed any better," Bucky huffed, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. His eyebrows went up in surprise as he swallowed. " _Huh_."

"My dad grew up on a farm in Vermont. He ate that type of stuff for breakfast every day until he was 18. He thought it built character for me and my Upper East Side brothers or something, and made us eat it too." I shrugged and stirred Howard's coffee. He usually took it black, but since he had the  _audacity_  to  _ask me to get it for him_ , he'd have to take his coffee like I did, with sugar and milk.

"My momma grew up on an estate in Maine and didn't think kids gained anything from eating wallpaper paste like that for breakfast. She got pretty creative in mixing up bowls that tasted halfway decent," I explained with a shy smile.

"Uh-huh," Bucky said, making a mildly obnoxious slurping noise as he tried to stop some oatmeal that was sliding down his bottom lip and over his chin. "Ah crap," he muttered, swallowing and using his sleeve to wipe his chin again. I looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes and slowly shook my head.

"What?" He asked, playfully defensive.

“Have you no manners?" I teased, beginning to walk back to Howard’s tent. "You still have some on your chin, by the way."

"Well, I haven't exactly had a lot of opportunities to  _display_  my manners lately," Bucky defended himself, scrubbing his chin with his sleeve and still completely missing the food.

"Doesn't mean you let them go to the dogs," I told him as I pushed through the flap of Howard’s tent, grabbing a clean-looking rag from the table. I reached forward to wipe off his chin. When he leaned away from my hand, I sheepishly looked down and mumbled "Just let me get it."

"Thanks, Glow," Bucky said, his teasing tone gone as he looked down at me with a fond smile. I slowly retracted my hand and glanced down, clearing my throat. I turned away and saw Howard was nowhere to be found.

"Oh, isn't that just  _perfect_ ," I sighed. "Went through all the trouble to get him a cup of coffee for him and he just  _left_!"

I walked to the table in the center of the room and put the mugs down, giving one last huff of frustration. I turned slightly, and saw Bucky was still standing in the doorway of the tent, leaning on the support beam. "You can come in, you know."

Not wasting any time, Bucky walked in and stood next to me, looking at the papers and mangles pieces of metal on the table. "What's Stark trying to do?”

"Work out what you and the other prisoners were building,” I said, not looking at Bucky. I peeked at him through my hair after a second, and when he appeared to be alright, I continued. “Even though Schmidt blew the factory sky high, it's pretty darn hard to  _completely_  obliterate a building as big as that one. The rooms all the way on the bottom, like the file rooms and sub-basements were somewhat intact, so some papers were dug out. Howard’s trying to figure out how the rockets work, that way we can figure out how to do something about it; disarm them or fight back…something like _that_.”

"Workin’ with the world’s best engineer…And here I thought you were chemistry-smart," Bucky said with teasingly narrowed eyes.

"Oh, no, I’m not really helping Howard,” I said quickly, then frowned. “I mean, I am, but I’m not really allowed to be, not right now at least. I had to go through a long process to be allowed to work the Dr. Erskine, and Howard and I thought that check would transfer with me to his company, but it didn’t. So they have to recheck me as an employee of Howard’s before I can work on this, since it’s considered Top Secret.”

“A bunch ‘a charred papers are Top Secret?” Bucky chuckled.

“Peggy told me that Schmidt probably thinks the entire factory was destroyed, and we have the upper hand now because he doesn’t know we have the plans, and even if we can’t read them all, the SSR wants him to think they’re all gone,” I explained, pushing a few papers around with the pencil I’d been using to write in my notebook earlier.

Bucky nodded in understanding and swallowed before speaking. “Still, this isn’t chemistry and you understand it—Just when I think I know how smart you are, you go and surprise me.”

I blushed and looked at the papers. “Well, I my Ph.D is in chemistry, but I’m interested in a bunch of different scientific fields. I’d get degrees in a bunch of different things if I could—Engineering, physics, medical sciences, and other things that fall under those. Chemistry was the most advanced program I could afford.”

Bucky nodded in understanding. He set his bowl down on the edge of the table, away from the papers, and grabbed a stool that had been shoved against the wall. Howard rarely sat still, he'd move around the lab quickly with every errant thought; stools and chairs got in his way. I smiled at Bucky shyly and sat down on the stool he put behind me.

"What about that project you were working on with the doctor? The one that made Steve. You’re still working on that, aren’t you?” Bucky continued to lean his hip on the table, looking fondly down at me as he ate his oatmeal.

I gave a sad sigh, prodding my notebook with the pencil. “It’s…It’s moving a little slow. Dr. Erskine didn’t write everything down to begin with, and what he did write down was in German, and some of it in code. The German part isn’t an issue, but the code is pretty complex and it takes some time to decipher. It’s a lot of repeat knowledge, because much of what I’m decoding or translating I had in my notebook, but it was stolen. And what I don’t decode or remember, I have to rediscover through trial and error, or extensive research.”

“Well, I got faith in ‘ya, Glow,” Bucky said lightly, grinning. “You got it once, and you’ll get it again. And this time around you have Steve, the finished product. That’s gotta help, right?”

Blushing at his optimism and compliments, I nodded. “Yes, having Steve around does help, but…”

Bucky frowned and leaned down a little when I wouldn’t meet his gaze. “But what?”

“But…But, I feel like I’m a let-down,” I admitted softly, looking away from the cerulean blue eyes to the ashy end of my pencil. “I was Dr. Erskine’s assistant, I knew more about the serum than anyone else. It’s been nearly a year since Steve, and I haven’t even put a dent in all I need to do to make more…”

“You’re not letting anyone down,” Bucky said firmly. He grasped my chin gently between his thumb and a bent forefinger

Blushing a little at the touch, I gave Bucky a small, melancholy smile. "It’s just…It’s just moving a little slow. Dr. Erskine didn't write everything down, and my notebook was stolen, so I have to redo a whole bunch or research and trial and error. And what he did write down is coded, and in German…The German part isn't an issue really."

I sighed, propping my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my hands. "I'm stalling now. Have to think of something to keep me here soon, otherwise I'd be sent home." Bucky looked at me with sympathetic eyes.

"Ah! Annie! There you are!" Peggy announced, walking into the tent casually. She bristled and stood straighter when she saw Bucky, and narrowed her eyes a ltittle. Bucky, a little uneasy under the brunette's harsh stare, threw one of his charming smiles her way.

"This him?" Peggy asked, gesturing vaguely to Bucky. I looked away from both Peggy and Bucky as I nodded a little, slightly embarrassed the man I was sweet on was meeting one of my close, protective friends.

" _Oh_." I heard Peggy respond with a just a hint of sarcasm.

_SMACK!_

I whirled around and gasped as I saw Bucky stumbled back a step with a stunned look on his face, holding a smarting red cheek as he held one of his cheeks.

" _Peggy_!" I gasped, grabbing her arm and pulling her back a little. I looked up at Bucky with worried eyes, gently prying a hand off his cheek.

"She- _She slapped me!_ " Bucky said quietly, stunned and embarrassed. "She—Why'd you  _slap_  me? I’ve never even talked to you! I didn’t have time to bother you yet!"

"Do you know what a  _mess_  Annie was when you stopped writing back?" The Brit started to scold.

"Peggy!" I cut her off, grabbing her arm again, dragging her out of the tent. Once out of Bucky’s sight, I smacked her arm a few times as I explained to her exactly  _why_  Bucky had stopped writing me back. She had wanted to go in and apologize, but I was still upset with her. I threw my arms in the air, made an exasperated sound and went back in the tent; Bucky was still eating his oatmeal, but one hand was gently prodding his cheek.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

"She slaps hard,” Bucky muttered, letting me turn his face to the side a little to see his red cheek.

"For what it's worth, she's sorry," I told him, going back to the table. "There was a bit of a… _misunderstanding_..." I trailed off as I saw his fond, happy little smile/smirk on his face.

"What?" I asked, shifting uncomfortable and self-conscious under his gaze.

"So…You were a mess when I stopped writing you back, huh?" He teased.

I pressed my lips together so I didn't smile as I started shuffling papers around on the table. "Of  _course_  you fixate on that." I muttered. I heard Bucky chuckle, but I didn't look up.

"How'd your notebook get stolen?" He asked after a few more minutes of silence; I was happy to get back to what we had been speaking about before Peggy interrupted.

"After the test with Steve went as planned, some HYDRA agent who'd snuck in set off a bomb and fired off a few shots. One hit Dr. Erskine, another hit me, and the rest just/ bounced around the lab creating chaos, during which he took off with the two remaining vials of serum and my notes,” I explained as I looked over the papers. “Steve took off after the agent—Actually got his hands on him, but the coward bit down on a cyanide capsule before he could be questioned…I wouldn’t be so far behind if I had one or both of the stolen vials, but one vial broke open on the pavement during the chase—It was contaminated, so it was basically useless. The other was lost in the water. The SSR sent divers to look for it, but they didn’t find anything.”

I jumped slightly when I heard something clatter onto the table top. I saw Bucky looking at me with a blank, stunned look on his face, one hand was up and empty, the other still held his bowl. I saw his spoon on the table. I quickly took his bowl out of his hands, so he didn't drop it, and looked at him questioningly.

"You… _You_ , were… _Shot_ ," Bucky said dumbly, his blue eyes wide with disbelief.

I nodded, brows furrowed in confusion as I looked up at him. "Yeah, in the shoulder. The left one."

His expression was blank, and he fell back to sit on his stool.

"Are you ok?" I asked him, setting his oatmeal bowl on the table. I took a cautious step closer.

"Yeah…Yeah, I'm…I'm ok," Bucky said, sounding like he was off somewhere far away. He vacantly stared into space, his expression was similar to what I imagine he looked like when he tried to do a complicated math problem. “I’m ok…Don’t wanna distract you…Keep on workin’…I-I’ll be…Ok.”

I frowned but went back to the blueprints and papers. I was hardly paying attention to the papers, preferring to keep an eye on Bucky through my curls. After a few minutes, he pinned me with an intense gaze that made me look at him properly. “Bucky? Are you sure you’re alright?

He nodded quickly, blinking rapidly. "Yeah…Yeah…" He muttered, still looking at me with his piercing blue eyes.

Bucky raised a hand up to hesitantly touch my shoulder, like it was still wounded, rather than healed and scared. "How-How bad was it?"

I took his hand off my shoulder and wound our fingers together, squeezing his hand. “It didn’t hit anything major. Through and through, as the doctors said. I just needed a few stitches. My arm was in a sling for a couple weeks, but I’m just fine. No lasting damage.”

Bucky just kept staring at my shoulder. “Bet-Bet it bled a lot…Anythin’ above the heart bleeds a lot, heard a medic say that once…Don’t know if it’s true, but it always seems true…”

I was growing concerned with his responses, how his mind was clearly somewhere else. I’d seen other soldiers act like this, usually right before they had an episode of some sort. He needed to see something real, something that would snap him out of the state he was in. A clear idea came to mind, and I blushed beet red at the very thought. It wasn’t my first choice, but I couldn’t think of anything else.

I looked to the closed tent flap for a few second, took a deep breath and reached up to the collar of my blouse. With my free hand, I felt along the line of buttons; I had the first two already undone and pushed the next two pearls through the holes. I shimmied my shoulder and tugged the material to the side so the majority of the front of my left shoulder was exposed. In-between my collar bone and shoulder, in the fleshy part just to the right of my armpit, was a round, shiny scar. It was a little pink and rose up from the surrounding skin.

“See?” I wanted to sound reassuring, but my voice came out a shy squeak. With my shirt pulled to the side like it was, the strap of my bra was clearly visible. It wasn’t a racy piece, not hardly, but it was the first time a man saw any part of the underthings I was wearing. It wasn’t the first time a man had seen the underthings I owned, although Kiku had told me that Billy walking in on me doing my delicate washing, stealing a pair of my knickers and running around the apartment while I chased him didn’t count. I knew Bucky’s eyes were on the scar, but I also knew that he saw the cream strap of my bra and the thin piece of lace that went along the length of the strap; it added a little more femininity to the functional garment. “See how little the scar is? I was up and moving around in a few hours after it was stitched up. It wasn’t a serious injury, Bucky.”

With his cerulean eyes fixed on the round scar, he mumbled something. I couldn’t understand it, and released my blouse in favor of resting my hand gently on his upper arm. He finally looked at me, taking in my concerned gaze that clearly explained that I didn’t hear him.

“I-I said…I said _what was the point_.”

My brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

Bucky untangled our fingers, and used both of his large, rough hands to button my blouse back up. He slowly pushed the pearl buttons through the sewn holes in the material, taking great care in the simple task. He left the top two undone as I had been wearing it before, and as he pulled his hands back, his thumbs grazed my covered collar bones, leaving a warm heat in their wake. He dropped his hands in his lap, then looked up at me with wide, vulnerable eyes.

“I thought about you a lot, you know…In the trenches and-…And _there_.” Bucky’s voice was low and rough with emotion; he looked down and kept mumbling. “Thought about you a little extra when things were real bad, when I didn’t think I could _do it_ any more—keep goin’, I mean…I told myself over and over and over again, that I had to keep goin’ cause I was keepin’ you safe from what I was fighting…I had to keep goin’ cause I what I was doin’ kept you safe…”

“Yes,” I said softly, nodding my head a little. “You were brave, Bucky—You _are_ brave. I-I’m proud of you.”

“But it didn’t keep you safe, did it?” His voice sounded like it was about to crack. He looked back up at me with eyes that were so passionately sad. “You got shot by the enemy anyway.”

“Hey now,” I said in a firmer voice, gently gripping his upper arms with both my hands. “You were on a different continent, Bucky, not in the lab with me. You couldn’t have stopped the bullet even in you had been there anyway—It happened so fast, even Steve couldn’t react in time to do anything and he has enhanced reflexes! I’m alright now, you have to know that, ok? I’m right in front of you, and I’m fine.”

Bucky abruptly stood from his stool and grabbed me in a tight hug. His face was pressed into the top of my left shoulder, his long arms wrapping around my back and grabbing under my arm pits. He inadvertently pulled me up a little, so I was on my tiptoes as I hugged him back, after having a moment to compose myself. Blushing hard, I rested my cheek on his chest like I’d seen women in films do when they embraced a man. I heard his heart in that position; it started out fast, but the longer we hugged, the more it slowed into a steady rhythm of thumping beats you could set a metronome by. Shyly, I moved my fingers over his back, keeping my palm stationary and pressed to his back. Billy and my momma used to do that when they hugged me when I was upset, and it seemed to have the same soothing effect on Bucky as it did on me.

When Bucky finally broke the silence, his voice was almost back to its normal timbre. "Were you _really_ a mess when I stopped writing you back?"

I let out a soft giggle and if my eyes had been open, they would have rolled. "Oh  _yes_. I was an absolute _wreck_ for _six weeks_.”

"Only six?" Bucky responded playfully. “I would’a thought I was worth at least two months, darlin’.”

"Well, I'm no use to anyone as a balling mess, are I?" I asked, smiling into his thick shirt. “There’s a war on out there—Can’t leave it to the _men_ to figure out how to win it.”

The chuckling that followed my mumbled wit made Bucky’s chest vibrate comfortingly.

We just stood there, in the tent with the metal parts of bombs and half-charred blueprints for Lord knows how long. I was a bit worried that Howard or someone might walk back in and catch us in our close proximity, but as more time passed the less I cared. I felt safe wrapped up in his strong arms, and he seemed too take comfort in cuddling me to his chest like a teddy bear.

"Are you ok, Bucky?" I asked softly.

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled into my shoulder. His grip tightened on me for a brief moment.

My eyebrows furrowed over my closed eyes. "You don't seem ok...Not all the time at least."

“I’m fine,” Bucky insisted, then paused. “Just thinkin’ about what kinda pain you musta been in.”

I pulled back from his chest, remaining in his grasp, and gave him a soft but pointed look. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Bucky put a hand on my upper back and pulled me back into his chest, taking his face out of my view. “I know what you meant, Glow, and you don’t need to worry…My marbles are a bit out of order but I haven’t lost any.”

I didn’t like how defensive he sounded, but I didn’t wanna push him. If Bucky said he was alright, I’d believe him until I had evidence to the contrary and have to trust that he’d go to Steve or me or _someone_ if he needed help.

Suddenly, and soft laugh came from his throat. Before I could ask what was so funny, Bucky pressed a loud, wet, dramatic kiss to my cheek. His lips pressed just under my cheekbone and his scruff scratched my skin. I let out a surprised squeal before dissolving into a fit of giggles, trying to squirm out of his arms.

Bucky let me go, but grasped my hands in his, linking our fingers as he let me step back. With that playful smirk, he teased that he wasn’t done yet, that the other cheek needed a kiss too. I was giggling and turning my head every which way to keep his lips of my cheek. I tried to step back, but he kept a firm grip on my hands. He was laughing soon too, which only made me laugh more.

When he finally did plant a second kiss on my other cheek, it wasn’t like the other one. It was lower, closer to my jaw. I felt the corner of his lips and his short scruff on my mouth, making my breath catch and my movements cease.

Bucky leaned back slowly, looking down at me with cautious, apprehensive eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled, an ever-rare bashful hint to his small smile. “I, uh…I think I missed.”

I blinked up at him. Only minutes ago, he was staring into space and clinging to me like a lifeline, looking battle worn and years older than he was. But now, he looked like the young man who asked me to go dancing back in New Jersey.

Wanting to answer, I found that I couldn’t move my tongue. I swallowed, then squeaked out “Were-Were you aiming for my cheek or-or my—” I blushed so hard that I cut myself off.

Bucky seemed to know when I was unable to say, and began chewing on the inside corner of his bottom lip, making his jaw tick and move. Slowly, he brought a hand up to my cheek. He brushed an errant curl behind my ear, then trailed his fingers down my cheek. It eventually cupped my jaw, his thumb brushing with a featherlight touch. All the while, he was looking down at me with those baby blues that could make a girl speechless.

His thumb grazed my bottom lip and I shivered a little, pressing my now free hand to his chest. Bucky took a step closer, out linked hands now gently stuck between our bodies. His face angled down towards my own, and I could feel his warm, even breaths on my face. My own breathing, on the other hand, was quick and shallow.

Out noses brushed and my breath hitched. Bucky started rubbing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. He breathed out my name, and my eyes fell shut.

"Hey Stark!-Oh."

I jumped about a foot in the air and nearly tripped over the stool behind me as I threw myself away from Bucky. I steadied myself on the edge of the table, looking at the, now open, tent flap, with a heaving chest, wide eyes and a bright red face.

In the tent entrance stood Steve, glancing rapidly between me and Bucky, who narrowed his eyes slightly at his friend. He looked at me and his cheeks actually blushed a little; he ducked his head to rub the back of his neck while his other hand was jammed into his pocket, giving Steve an annoyed look out of the corner of his eye.

"How-" My voice came out high and squeaky. I stopped and cleared my throat before I kept speaking. "Howard isn't here."

Steve nodded, his hands fidgeting at his sides and his cheeks tinted pink. "Oh-ok,” he said, just a bit too loudly. He swallowed and nodded a little, remaining in the tent entrance.

"I-I'll just…Uh…I’ll just, _go_ …then…" the blond said. After standing there for a few more seconds, he turned around and left.

I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding and pressed a hand to my forehead. _Lordy_ —I don't think I've ever been more _embarrassed_ in my life!  

I jumped when Bucky cleared his throat. I looked up at him and gnawed on the inside, looking at him apprehensively. He had that easy smile-smirk on his face; he gave a shrug, as if to say ‘what are you gonna do?’ and picked his, now cold, oatmeal back up. With a jerk of his head indicating the table, he spoke. “So, you and Stark any closer to figuring these things out than when you got them?”

Thankful for the opportunity to talk about something technical, I let out a sigh of relief then began rambling about the blueprints and metal fragments. I moved around the table, pointing to sharp shards of metal and picking up papers as I talked. I knew most of what I was talking about was a little over Bucky’s head, but he didn’t look like he was going to complain anytime soon, and it was helpful to just talk it all out aloud. After some time, I ended up standing next to Bucky again, hands on my hips as I huffed and glared at the stuff atop the table.

Bucky broke my inner monologue against the coded HYDRA blueprints with a random statement."That doesn't go there."

"Hm? What doesn’t go where?”

"That part," Bucky said, mouthful, as he used his spoon to point to part of the mock-up sketch Howard had come up with.

"It doesn't go _there_ ; goes _under_ this thing," he finished, moving the spoon to point to another part of the sketch.

I stopped leaning my hip on the table and pulled the blueprint closer. In my haste to do so, I knocked a stool over and promptly ignored the comment Bucky made about it.

"This part?" I practically demanded conformation, pointing to what he had; the hydrogen reaction chamber.

"Yeah, doesn't do way in back there, goes more in the front, up here.” Bucky used his spoon to point again. "Goes under the bottle-lookin’-things.”

"The compressed nitrogen valves," I mumbled, my mind going a hundred miles an hour.

"You're saying this part, this part  _right_   _here_ ," I emphasized, pointing to the reaction chamber. "Doesn't go _here_ , where Howard has it.”

" _Yes_ ," Bucky said, mimicking my slow, emphasized tone teasingly. "I had'ta help _build_ these damn things, I know where  _most_  of the parts go."

A grin broke out over my face.

This was  _chemistry_. I _knew_ chemistry.

And _this_ was _simple_ chemistry.

"They won't work," I breathed out, grinning wider.

"Mm?" Bucky asked, his spoon in his mouth.

"They-They won’t work!— _They're not going to work!_ " I said, louder and almost giddy. I began darting around the table, colleting papers, blueprints and notes clumsily in my arms, still grinning. "Oh _Bucky_ I could just  _kiss_  you!"

Bucky had frozen in place, spoon half way from his mouth back to the bowl. "Ok,” he said, seemingly stunned into a happy stupor. It wasn't as adorable as it could have been; he had oatmeal sliding down his chin. I giggled and ran out of the tent.

I was back just seconds later. I dashed past Bucky, grabbed one more paper, then ran back to the tent flap. This time I didn’t even make it out of the tent; I stopped just short of the flap and stopped, my knees locking like a colts. I spun around, ran back to Bucky, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then ran out of the lab asking loudly if anybody knew where Howard or Phillips was.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!  
> College, 'ya know?

" _Peggy_! I don't know if-if _all_ _this_ is a good-"

"Oh  _hush_ , will you?" The brunette agent said, rolling her eyes a little. She paused to fix her hair in the window of the bar, and swiping a finger under her bottom lip to get rid of the nonexistent red smudges from her lipstick.

"I just don't _do_ _this_!" Anna said, nervously feeling the thick, heavily sprayed waves that swept over her forehead. "I-I _don't_ -"

" _I'm_  going in," Peggy announced as she smoothed her red dress.

"I won't be long, if you want to stand out in the cold, be my guest," she added, walking into the bar. The blonde frowned as she looked after the woman she considered her best friend; she loved the woman, sure, but she sometimes envied her confidence.

It wasn't that cold. A little chilly, maybe, but Anna wasn't uncomfortable; temperature wise, that is. She was  _very_  uncomfortable in the outfit Peggy had thrown at her; a pale pink dress that was a little more fitted and…well,  _flattering_ , than she was used to.

Even though she was out of her element, Anna bashfully hoped that, if Bucky saw her, he thought she looked nice.

* * *

"Agent Carter," Steve greeted the dark-haired woman with a nod. He was trying to hide his smile, but it wasn’t going very well. But, how could he _not_ smile?—The English dame’s very presence brought the loud din of the bar down to a low mummer.

"Captain," she responded, not acknowledging Bucky, who stood next to Steve and had greeted her as well; he was feeling  _quite_ ignored.

"I can't stay long. Annie didn't want to come in," she sighed, shaking her head. “I just have a few things to discuss with you, if you have the time.”

Bucky perked up at the mention of the blonde chemist, his focus now solely on finding her. After standing from his bar stool, he saw a familiar shade of golden hair through the window. It was only a glimpse, briefly seeing the yellow hair between the moving heads of the men in the pub and the letters and crest painted on the glass.

 "Uh…” Bucky started to speak, but trailed off as he leaned to the side slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of Anna’s hair again, just to make sure it was her. He glanced at Steve and Peggy; they were already looking at him. He hid his slightly embarrassed expression very well.

“Uh,” he started again, taking a few steps away from the bar. “I’ll be…I’ll be right back, pal.”

Steve chuckled in amusement at his friend’s actions. He _really_ liked Anna, and it was _very_ clear.

Bucky jumped back to the bar, threw back the rest of the amber liquid in his glass, wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and nodded once. With a little more confidence, he said “I’ll be right back, pal.”

After glancing towards Peggy, who simply raised a sculpted brown brow, Bucky’s face pulled into a half-smirk. “ _Ma’am_ ,” he mumbled as he passed her on the way to the door.

As he walked towards the door of the pub, his smile grew.

When Bucky reached the door, he opened it slowly and saw Anna sitting on a bench in front of the window. She had a small notebook in her lap, scribbling stuff Bucky couldn't begin to understand on the pages.

"Now, what's wrong with this picture?" He asked, crossing his arms as he leaned on the window of the bar.

Anna jumped when she heard his voice and spun around. Her wide brown eyes looked brighter and bigger with the black kohl rimming them, and Bucky's smirk became a little more like a smile as he took in her appearance for the night. Her hair wasn't a poorly controlled mess of curls. Instead it was in large, smooth waves. By normal standards, one might argue that this was a better look on her than the wild corkscrew curls, but Bucky had a soft spot for them. Her clothes were pressed, spotless, and colorful (a dark, dusty pink), opposed to the neutral colors she usually wore in attempt to hide the stains from the lab.

"Hi Bucky," was all she said, quickly closing her notebook.

"You know, the music here isn't half-bad," Bucky pointed out, that half-smirk on his face.

"Oh?" she asked, standing as she stuffed the small notebook and pencil into her purse.

"Yeah," he confirmed with a nod.

Anna looked down at her shoes, trying not to scuff the high heels. "You know, I've only seen you wear your uniform the proper way once."

Bucky chuckled at her random remark. "Really?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow and glancing down at himself; what he was wearing was hardly his dress greens, but he looked more military that he did when he was at Camp Leigh.

"Yeah…At the Expo," Annie said, eyeing the jacket he had on. It was the same one he'd worn that night, only it was a little more worn now, and about a size and a half too big. She had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that that had been  _a year ago_.

It was how big the jacket seemed on him that worried Anna. She had looked in Bucky's medical files, and with the check-up she'd given him when he first returned to the base, he'd lost a lost more weight than she'd originally guessed during his… _stay_ , at the HYDRA factory.

"Oh, yeah…" Bucky trailed off, his blue eyes narrowing a little as he looked at Anna, trying to see if he'd be pushing too hard in asking for a dance. She was clearly already uncomfortable and out of her element in the get-up he assumed Agent Carter put her in.

"Are you gonna ask me to dance again?" Anna asked shyly.

"Thinkin' about it," Bucky said honestly, still holding the half-smirk on his face. He noticed Anna shiver a little as a light breeze made her dress ruffle.

"At least come inside," Bucky sighed. Anna sent him a slightly apprehensive look. Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned off the wall and took a few steps towards Anna. He dropped onto the bench next to her and gently slinging an arm around her shoulders with the hope of convincing her, and warding off the chill in the air for her.

"I promise I won't twirl you against your will," he said playfully, unaware how Anna's heart was pounding in her ears as she looked up into Bucky's blue eyes.

"I guess coming inside wouldn’t be a bad idea," she said quietly. Bucky smirked and gave her a squeeze that nearly made her heart explode before removing his arm from her shoulders and jumping to his feet. He meant to offer Anna a hand, but she got to her feet without his help. He then offered her his arm like a proper gentleman, making the blonde smile bashfully and tuck her small hand in the crook of his arm.

Anna stayed close to Bucky’s side as he confidently walked through the laughing, drinking and dancing patrons. Once at the bar, he gestured for Anna to take a seat on the worn leather bar stool, but he opted remain standing and lean an elbow on the bar.

The blonde was prepared to wait some time for the man tending bar to notice them, but Bucky simply waved him over with ease. He ordered himself something on tap, then looked to Anna for her order. He half-expected her to get just a soda or maybe a glass of white wine, but she seemed perfectly comfortable ordering a whisky Old Fashioned.

Once the two glasses came, Bucky suddenly wished he’d ordered something stronger. He’d asked Anna to dance close to fifty times, but things were different now; they were in a different country, at a place where they could actually dance, and Anna had already drunk half her Old Fashioned and was smiling wider and giggling.

He tipped his head back to down the last of the beer in his glass, dropped it back down on the bar, and looked more directly at Anna. He leaned a little closer, so she’d be able to hear him over the music and voices of the bar.

“Alright Glow,” he started out, making Anna look at him with those wide eyes, the same color as her drink, rimmed with kohl made his breath nearly catch in his throat. That’d been happening since they met up again. Bucky would catch himself gazing at her and forgetting to breathe; it was like his time in the HYDRA factory made her even more beautiful. “Never gonna be a better time, so what’d’ya say?”

Her brows furrowed, and she sat her drink down. “What do I think about what?”

“The music is swingin,’ the night’s still young and I would like nothing more than to dance with you,” Bucky answered with a smile. He shrugged a little.

“I told you, I don’t know how to dance,” Anna reminded him shyly, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger.

“I remember,” Bucky said with a nod, still smiling. “I also remember telling you that I was an excellent teacher.”

His hand covered her’s, stopping her from tracing the rim of the glass, making her look up at him again. “So, what’d’ya say?”

* * *

"Yeah, yeah just… _there_ ," Bucky said, nodding as Anna hesitantly rested her hand on his shoulder, her fingers curling into the rough woven wool of his jacket in an effort to calm herself slightly. She was uncomfortable learning to dance in a crowded bar where people might see her stumble, Bucky argued that because it was crowded no one would notice them. He leaned close and spoke lowly, so she didn’t really stand a chance.

“And then I take this one and my other hand goes here.” Bucky held her other hand out slightly while his hand came to rest at the small of her back. His large hand radiated warmth through the material of her dress. It was perfectly placed; high enough not to be raunchy or vulgar, but not so high so there was no intimacy in the gesture.

Two steps in, Anna stumbled and ended up stepping on Bucky’s booted foot. He hardly felt it, and all it really did was cause her to lose her balance, but she pinched her face in embarrassment and frustration none the less. He cut off her rambling apology by squeezing her waist, which made Anna squeak and half-step closer.

"It’s fine if you step on my toes, Annie,” Bucky chuckled. “Just follow me, ok? I’ll take it nice and slow.”

Bucky was walking Anna through a basic box step and was holding back a grin or chuckle at how intently Anna was focusing on her feet. She was mumbling the steps and keeping count under her breath, her hand growing a little sweaty in his.

“You’re not doing one of your scientific equations, Glow,” Bucky chuckled, suddenly pulling her closer and spinning them both. “Can’t think if it so… _so_ -”

“So analytically?” Anna offered, a bashful smile gracing her features.

“ _Exactly_ ,” he said with an affirmative nod. “You just gotta go with the music. And _hey_ —Eyes on me, alright? No more lookin’ at your feet.”

Once she was able to hold his gaze, Bucky led Anna through steps that he’d used to woo other ladies in the past. However, he wasn’t half as happy dancing with them as he was with Anna. Soon, she was smiling and ducking her head in laughter as he pulled her close and spun them around. She managed a few basic swing steps on faster songs, but he preferred the slower ones because he could hold her closer.

Something by the Duke came on, and Anna happily settled closer as they swayed to the crooner’s music. “You know, I had a plan about what I’d talk about when we danced. Figured a smart gal like you, I couldn’t twirl you around with nothing smart to say. I even made sure I knew all about that Jabberwocky poem you had me read.”

“Really?”

“Sure did.” He was pretty proud of himself, actually. “Didn’t understand it all, but I got it well enough to woo you while something smooth played.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Anna hoped she sounded coy and playful, and the grin Bucky gave her was absolutely radiant.

"Well…" Bucky trailed off, seemingly deep in thought. "It's about a boy, who kills the monster that terrorizes his village. It's a really heroic thing, killing the jabberwocky, so, when the kid goes back to his village he's welcomed like a hero."

His sudden stop in both speech and movement confused Anna, but before she could ask when he was doing, he twirled her. He pulled their joined hands above his head and spun Anna around before swiftly bringing her back into him after a complete circle was made. She was breathless when she landed back on his chest, staring up at him wide eyed.

 "So-So the boy was a hero in his village?" Anna managed to ask.

"Yeah," Bucky said, nodding as he picked back up.

"But, the opening and closing, uh…" He trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought. " _Damnit_ …what was the word Percy used…?" Bucky mumbled.

Considering that he swore, Anna was pretty sure Bucky didn’t intend for her to hear the last part. She offered a word while smiling slightly. “Stanza?”

" _Yes_! Yeah, that's it." Bucky said, grinning. "The opening and closing stanzas are the same, so, it sorta like the kid did this amazing, heroic thing, and it saved the village, but there's still all sorts of stuff out there. So, in a sense, the kid didn't change much."

Anna looked up at him with a smile. "You know, after that, I have a hard time believing you failed English class."

Again, to her surprise, Bucky pulled her close and spun around before dipping her low. He easily held Anna just by his hand on my back. She gasped when she first realized what he was doing and looked at him with the same shocked eyes as before.

" _Almost_  failed, Glow,  _almost_." Bucky clarified lowly, a glint in his smoldering eyes that made her stomach flip over on itself.

He pulled Anna back up right, still holding her close. Not that she minded very much, but she was pressed up against his chest. Before, there had been an inch or two between them, now, the blonde was flush against her partner’s broad chest. But it still wasn't in a raunchy way, it was intimate, like he just wanted to hold her closer (because, he did). Once she’d calmed her racing heart, she heard what she realized were some claps and a few whistles.

In all the spinning and the twirling, Bucky had landed them in the center of the dance floor.

* * *

Anna walked with her purse carelessly dangling from her finger tips. "You didn't  _have_  to walk me back."

"Aw, now what kind'a gentleman would I be if I let a lady walk home all on her own?" Bucky asked, smirking at her. He had one hand lazily in his pocket, the other had two fingers hooked into the collar of his jacket that was slung over his shoulder. "'Sides, I live there to."

After a few minutes of silence, Anna felt a jacket being slung over her shoulders. She’d been trying to hide her shivering, pulling her thin coat around herself tightly, but Bucky had eyes far too sharp to miss it. It was oversized and warm and made her smile. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He just smirked a little and shrugged.

"You know…The letters you sent me…They really helped me…When I was in the factory, I mean, they really just—They kept me sane.”

Anna’s breath caught in her throat at his words.

“Good,” she said eventually. “I kept writing, you know. I didn’t know what happened, why you didn’t reply anymore, but I kept writing…I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you, ‘cause I certainly didn’t.”

Bucky smiled and put an arm around his Glow’s shoulders, playfully hugging her and even kissing the crown of her head. “I know you’d never forget about me. Frankly, I wouldn’t let you.” The eruption of giggles from Anna earned her another kiss on the top of her head.

They continued to walk. Bucky kept an arm around Anna’s shoulders, his free hand jammed in his pocket, while Anna enjoyed the warm cocoon of his jacket.

"So, talked to Steve tonight." His fist jammed deeper into his pocket.

"Oh?" Anna asked, interested.

"Yeah…Phillips asked Steve to lead a team. He picked us over some'a the best already out there." The half-smirk on his face seemed a little smugger.

"So, when are you shipping back out?" She asked, forcing her tone to be casual rather than worried.

. "Whenever we get the A-ok from Dr. Matt, I guess." Bucky shrugged, his dark eyebrows furrowing a little. The couple had reached their building, standing under the lit awning. His tone changed, it wasn't carefree or teasing; he sounded apprehensive and worried.

Anna stopped and looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky shrugged. "Not-Not  _wrong_ …Just…I mean this is  _Steve_  we're talking about, Steve asking me to, you know,  _save the world._ How could I say  _no_? I mean, I don't  _wanna_  say no, but…”

"You know, I don't think you're supposed to be happy about going back over there,” Anna said thoughtfully.

"What'da'ya mean?" Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes a little as his smirk grew.

"Well, you're going to a _warzone_ ," she reminded him. "If you were all gun-ho about this, I'd be a little concerned."

Bucky chuckled and shook his head again. "You just think you're so smart, don't you?" He asked, opening the door.

Anna shrugged, fiddling with a loose string on Bucky's jacket. "Well…If I wasn't, Steve wouldn't be here—"  _and you wouldn't be here, with me._

Bucky shrugged, pushing the gate of the elevator open and followed her in before shutting it once again and pressing the button for the floor both of their small quarters were on. The building was at least 30 years old, and the elevator wasn’t any younger. The climb to the twelfth floor took about six minutes on a good day.

"So," Bucky said once the small elevator started moving. "I'm goin' into a warzone."

"Yeah—Yes, I mean yes…Yes, you’re going to into a warzone," Anna said quietly, fiddling with the strap of her purse.

"Makes a man wonder about things.”

Anna looked up at him, but his gaze was fixed on the elevator cage. “What kind of things?”

He shrugged. “Just things…What I’ll do after its all over, how I’ll get through it all…If I’ll have someone waitin’ on me, someone to come back to.”

Anna’s heart began to pound in her chest at what he meant. “Oh. Do-Do you have someone in mind?”

Bucky finally looked at her, lolling his head to the side so she could see his half-smirk properly. “Yeah, I got someone in mind.”

She was breathless. “What’s she like?”

“Well,” Bucky sighed, turning to face her. Anna instinctively turned so they were chest to chest, and she became very aware of how small the elevator cage was. "She's a real looker. Got these pretty brown doe eyes that look gold in the right light, and blonde corkscrew curls."

There was a slight jolt when the elevator stopped moving, causing Bucky to take a step towards Anna and bring a hand up to the wall next to her head in order to keep his balance. Anna let out a soft squeak, both at the action and the jolt of the car.

"She sounds lovely," the blonde breathed.

"Yeah, yeah she is." Bucky said, nodding a little. "But it's not _just_ the pretty face with her."

"Oh?” Anna scolded herself for the lame reply, but her mind was swirling and hardly coherent. Few boys  had ever given her a second glance, and those who did lost interest quickly once they realized her intelligence and ambition; no boy wanted a steady with such a big mouth. But Bucky was a man, not a boy; he’d given her a second glance and more, and his interest in her grew the more he got to know Anna. She didn’t think anything like this would ever happen to her.

"No." Bucky confirmed. He was so close that he was practically looking down at Anna, their chest brushed each other when they inhaled. Anna would have felt intimidated if any other man caged her in like Bucky had her, but his gaze was so soft she, she’d hardly ever felt safer. "She's smart too…A little bit broken, maybe, but all the good ones are…Been my experience at least. 'Sides, someone as smart as her, even a little broken, she could fix me up in a heartbeat. Thing is, she doesn't _know_ that she's the best damn thing to come 'otta Manhattan, and just won't believe me when I tell her."

"O-Oh?" Her cheeks burned.

"Yeah.” He nodded a little. His other hand found its way to Anna’s hip. It rested gently at just the right place on her torso, not too high, not too low, just like when they danced. His large hand felt heavy on Anna’s side and burned through her dress in the most amazing way. “So I'm thinkin', maybe I should  _stop_  telling her, and, well, _do_   _something_  about it."

"O- _Oh_ …"  Anna squeaked out again, her eyes widening.

The hand at her hip gave her a squeeze that made her shiver before bringing his hand up to her face. Bucky’s knuckles brushed gently over Anna’s cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut and she weakly tried to turn her face away bashfully. Bucky’s gently fingers pulled it back to face him, his thumb ever-so-gently swiping over her long eyelashes, curled up and coated with mascara.

Anna’s eyes snapped open, and she was met with Bucky’s smoldering cerulean blues.

The blonde knew of Bucky’s history before they met. He was quite the ladies’ man, not that it was a surprise; with a pretty face, a charming smile and cheeky attitude, Anna had no doubt that he had a long trail of former girls he’d laid lines on and kissed in positions similar to the one he had her in. She heard most of it from Steve, and she had a few questions for Bucky himself, but there was one thing she knew for sure; when Steve said Anna was special to Bucky, he meant it. It was clear as day with the expression on his face. The tall brunet gazed down at Anna like he was looking at his most precious possession, something to delicate even too strong a gaze would crack it, something—someone, more important and beautiful than anything he could imagine.

Bucky’s thumb brushed over Anna’s bottom lip. Her dark pink lipstick had faded significantly, but it still left a small smudge on the pad of his thumb. The action made Anna’s breathing stutter, but also sent a zing of courage through her. One of her hands came to rest on top of the hand Bucky had over her cheek, the other gently rested on his collar. It fiddled there briefly, fixing a crease.

They hadn’t broken eye contact.

He leaned closer, close enough that their noses brushed. Anna’s breath hitched, her jaw falling slack, parting her lips slightly.

“ _Please_ …” Bucky whispered.

His breath, tinged with just enough alcohol to loosen his nerves, mingled with Anna’s, tinged with just enough alcohol to make her as bold as she could be.

“ _Please, Annie_ ,” Bucky repeated, speaking barely above a whisper. “ _Wait for me while I’m out there, Glow. Be the good thing I come back to_ -”

The cage door of the elevator clanged and slammed loudly, breaking the bubble Anna and Bucky had formed around themselves. Anna jumped in freight at the sound, instinctively pushing Bucky away from her as she looked wide eyed at who intended to enter the elevator.

Howard stood there, had still on the gate handle, looking positively shocked and a bit embarrassed. His hair looked like he’d run his hand through it a few times, his shirt was wrinkled and he hand his jacket slung over one shoulder.

"Uh…I was just gettin’ some coffee…" Howard spoke in a slow, awkward way. He took in Anna’s blushed cheeks, wide brown eyes, and her shoulders which were still draped in Bucky’s jacket. When his gaze shifted to Bucky, he saw a light flush on his cheeks, but the annoyed look in his eyes were much more evident.

"I'll take the stairs." Howard shut the gate and walked towards the stairwell.

It took a few moments before Anna’s breathing returned to normal and she was able to look Bucky in the eye again. He was looking at her carefully; the only sign of any embarrassment or bashfulness was the quickly fading blush across his cheekbones, and his fists jammed into his pockets.

Anna opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Bucky cleared his throat twice, then opened the elevator gate. “I’ll walk you to your door.” His voice was raspy.

Anna nodded quickly and numbly stepped out of the elevator. When she didn’t continue, Bucky put a hand on the small of her back and gently steered her to her door.

After fumbling with her keys, Anna opened the door to her quarters, then turned back to Bucky. They’d both been quiet once stepping into the hallway, and Anna felt words bubbling up in her throat. She awkwardly shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to him.

Bucky was about to speak, but Anna abruptly grabbed the collar of his shirt to balance herself as she bounced up to her tip toes to press a kiss to his cheekbone, closer to his hairline than she meant.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Anna then quickly let go of him and dashed behind her door, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling.

Bucky felt drunk as he made his way to his own room, a stupid grin on his face. He asked Anna to be the good thing he came back to, and she said _yes_.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God--This chapter already had so many feels and I just gave it more when editing.

_Anna_

I stood in the doorway to the newest SSR base and tried not to smile.

With Steve now leading a team to take down HYDRA, the SSR set up a base in London to keep tabs on HYDRA and support the _Howling Commandos_ in their raids. It was in the basement of the same building my humble apartment was in. It was a large building, 6 stories. The first and second were a cover; a store run by the family that lived on the second floor. The rest of the floors where apartments for the people that worked in the bunker-like basement.

As I walked into the base, I couldn't help but look in aw at the sheer size of it. It most likely took up the space under the building I entered from and at least two or three of the surrounding buildings—Maybe the whole block. It was full of people running, walking, every which way with arms holding files, scientific equipment and everything in between.

Howard sauntered up to me, a grin on his face. “What’d’ya think, doll?”

"A bit chaotic, don't you think?" I asked, but the happiness in my voice was clear.

“Yep, sure is!” Howard offered me his arm like a gentleman. “C’mon, that surprise I told you about? Finally got it all set up.”

He led me through the chaos easily, stopping at a pair of large industrial doors. I was equal parts excited and apprehensive. I was over the moon when I heard that I would be staying in London with the SSR and Howard, but the placement also put an immense weight on my shoulders, but none of that had anything to do with Howard’s surprise. While we had many things in common, Howard and I had some drastic differences. Whatever surprise he had planned, I had no doubt it was expensive, comprehensive and just a little bit embarrassing.

Letting my arm go, Howard opened the doors with an easy push. He stepped into the room, spun on a heel and threw his arms to dramatically gesture to the space around him. “What’cha think of your new lab, Dr. Brightman?”

My face broke into a wide, splitting grin. There were tables full of lad equipment of the highest quality. Chalkboards on casters lined the walls, some already had been written on. A large, empty desk was at the far end of the room.

" _Lordy,_ " I breathed, taking a few steps forward to gently trail my fingertips over the shiny, smooth stainless steel of the tables.

"Yeah, thought you'd like this part," Howard said smugly. I was so entranced by what was around me that Howard was able to slip my bag off my shoulder. He tossed it gently on the large empty desk and leaned on the back of the chair. "Philips took a little convincing, but the idea of more Steve's walking around was a damn good incentive."

Unable to make a coherent sentence, I nodded dumbly.

Howard chuckled. "I'll let you play with your new toys. I'm right through… _here_ ," he said, shoving another set industrial doors open to show another lab; it was a little larger and had different equipment.

"Uh-huh," I mumbled absent mindedly.

After a few more minutes of gawking at my lab, I went to the desk that was apparently mine and fell heavily into the chair.

Reference books were stacked neatly along the wall, a filer was filled with the files that had previously been haphazardly spread across my kitchen table, and there was a crystal paperweight in the shape of a mouse gazing up at me with black glass eyes. I picked it up curiously and turned it over in my hands a few times. The mouse had a pink bow around its neck stood on a piece of metallic gold cheese. I looked at the bottom and saw a congratulatory note from Howard engraved on the bottom. It warmed my heart that he gave me something so personal _and_ an entire lab.

According to the makers stamp, the cheese was 24 karat gold.

I sighed, holding the heavy, cold paper weight to my chest as I spun my chair around.

I may only be a few hundred miles from the trenches, but I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

…

“Well, finally found you!”

I heard the all too familiar voice of Bucky Barnes behind me, and my whole body froze. My pen stopped moving on my notebook, allowing the ink to seep into the page, and probably the pages under it, in a slowly expanding circle.

His footsteps echoed through my lab, and I suddenly became very aware that it was well past seven and everyone else, the other scientists and lab assistants, had left around five-thirty for dinner and ended their day. The only reason I was still at my desk was that a messenger brought the results of Bucky’s blood tests in the late afternoon, and I lost track of time going over all the typed papers carefully and running my own careful tests with the second vial of blood I took from him to test for myself.

I sat a little straighter at my desk but didn’t turn around. Finally managing to pull my pen up from the paper, I quickly screwed the cap back on it. “It-It’s pretty late, shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’ve been resting plenty, Glow,” Bucky chuckled, coming to lean on my desk. I still didn’t look at him. Every time Bucky crossed my mind, I thought about what happened in the elevator and I got all bashful and flushed. “What about you? Don’t you need to rest that brain ‘a yours? What’cha workin’ on anyway?”

I managed to vaguely gesture to the envelope stamped _CONFIDENTIAL_. “I got the results from the tests the lab in Edenborough ran on your blood. Aside from a slightly higher white cell count, there are no anomalies or anything not within the acceptable thresholds.”

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, picking up the envelope and the papers. “And, what’s that all mean in normal English?”

A small smile crept up on my mouth and I bit down hard on my bottom lip to hide it. After a moment, I managed to speak. “It means that you’re fine…Nothing they gave you lingered in your bloodstream too long.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been feelin’ better with every passing day, but its nice to have _you_ tell me that I’m gonna be fine.”

I blushed and nodded dumbly. The entire time he’d been leaning on my desk, I hadn’t taken my eyes off my notebook.

“So, are you plannin’ on lookin’ at me anytime soon, or…?” His voice was amused and playful, but there was just a tinge of worry hidden in there.

Feeling a little guilty now, I shyly peeked up at him.

It seemed impossible that one man could look so handsome, even in the harsh light of my lab. Men spend loads of money on expensive suits, shirts and haircuts just to look half as good as Bucky did in worn cargo pants, a plain white t-shirt (that was a little  _less_  than white), and what appeared to be the Kelly green overshirt he had worn back at basic in Camp Leigh rolled up to his elbows.

I finally looked up at his face. It’d been a few days since we danced, and it didn’t look like he’d shaved since that night; a dark shadow of stubble covered his jaw, neck and cheeks. His thick chocolate brown hair was smoothed back in an effortless but still styled way. I couldn’t hold back the smile this time.

“Hi Bucky,” I said quietly, feeling quite dumb and mushy under his blue gaze. He gave me that half-smirk-but-mostly-smile that I hadn’t seen him give anyone else.

“ _Hi Annie._ ” Bucky’s tone clearly portrayed the humor he found in the situation. His cerulean blues roamed my face; his smile slowly faded and a crease formed between his brows as they drew together. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

"Nothing," I answered automatically.

"You little liar," Bucky said teasingly, gently nudging my shoulder with the back of his hand. I wobbled slightly in my chair and looked away. He didn’t seem to like that, because he stepped away and seemed to be headed towards Silas’ desk.

Silas Lenard was the lab assistant hand picked for me by Howard himself. He was an enthusiastic 19-year-old who graduated high school at 14 and entered Yale at 16. His skills were too valuable to leave him to the draft, so he was recruited by the SSR. The only reason he was an assistant and not a scientist was that he lacked a degree. I liked him a lot; he vaguely reminded me of my brothers Billy and Greg. Silas was quite chatty, which I liked. It was nice to hear stories about his home in rural Pennsylvania, his parents and sisters, his beloved dog back home and the small things he missed, like marshmallows. His presence made the lab a little brighter.

My thoughts snapped back to Bucky when he rolled Silas’ desk chair towards my desk. Silas was a string-bean type, so to be able to sit comfortably at his desk his chair was much lower than mine. When Bucky sat in the chair, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees; he was still a little taller than me when we sat like this.

“C’mon Glow, what’s wrong?” He gently nudged my knee with his.

I looked down at my hands in my lap, playing with my pen. “I-I meant what I said before, Bucky. I-I’ll be here for you when you come back from all the raids and all, but-but I have to ask myself why someone…”

I paused and finally looked at Bucky, my eyes brushing over his sharp jaw, his high cheek bones, and his smoldering eyes framed with long lashes. “I-I have to ask myself why someone like _you_ would want someone like _me_ waitin’— _waiting_ , I mean _waiting_ —on them…Why someone like _you_ is so stuck on someone like _me_. I’m nothing special, Bucky.”

Bucky’s face morphed into a sympathetic expression that just about broke my heart. He reached forward and plucked the pen from my hands, dropping it on the desk and clasping my hands in his. “Now _that_ , darlin’, is just crazy talk. If anything, I gotta ask why a classy, smart, stunner like yourself would wait on a humble Brooklyn boy like me.”

I looked down at our hands. His were warm, and his pinky moved up and down over my skin.

“The-The Spanish Flu.”

“What was that?” Bucky asked, leaning closer to hear my mumbling.

“The-” I cleared my throat. “The Spanish Flu. Remember? That epidemic that came at the end of the war in ’18?”

“Yeah, no, I remember—Was worried sick about Steve,” Bucky said offhandedly with a nod. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”

"One theory about why the Spanish flu spread so quickly was the close quarters and massive movements of troops,” I mumbled. I saw his slightly impressed but still confused face. “My dad was a medic in France, with the Army. He shipped out not long before I was born, so he wasn’t there very long.”

Bucky’s brows rose; he didn’t know anybody in my family beside my brothers were in the military. “I…I still don’t understand, Annie.”

“When I was little, really little—too little to know that when your father came home and drinks whisky right from the tumbler that it’d be in your best interest to leave them alone,” I began, looking at our hands again. “I had a question for him, must have been about my homework or something, and I went into his study to ask him. He ignored me at first, so I just kept asking and talking to him. It wasn’t too long after my mother passed away, and I was a bit clingy to family.”

“Eventually, he slammed the tumbler down and snapped at me…‘Go back to your room you little smart ass! My God, you’re just like the fucking flu! Your mother got too close to ‘ya and look what it got her! Get back to your room before you infect anybody else!’”

My throat was getting tight; I hardly talked about my family with anybody. Kiku knew more than anybody else, my brothers aside, but she was half a world away right now. What I wouldn’t give for a phone call from her now. Maybe she could help with my inner turmoil and undeniable feelings for Bucky.

After a moment, I continued. “I had to ask my brothers what he meant, and they were all very willing to explain why I was like the flu…John said that I ruined my birth mother’s life, drove her out of New York. Henry even said it was my fault our momma died, he said it was ‘cause she got too close to me…And-And when I really think about it, they-they’re not all that wrong.”

"I'm harmless in the beginning, but the more people I’m around, the bigger the problems I cause.”

I peeked at Bucky and he looked absolutely heartbroken, like he heard but couldn’t understand what I’d said.

"Why… _What_ -Why would _your_ _own family_ say that?" He finally asked. It was like he couldn't even fathom it. The cynical part of my mind found it funny; Bucky had endured unimaginable horrors, but he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that I had an unhappy childhood.

I shrugged and a forced, cynical smile crossed my face. "I'm the little  _bastard_   _child_."

" _Hey_ _now_ -"

"I’m just telling you what happened—So you understand why I’m so hesitant to, well, be with you.”

“Annie _-_ ”

“I have all of that in my head—And Bucky I’ve never had a steady before, I mean, I’ve never been on a date before! I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it, if I’ll make you happy.”

“Glow, would you _-_ ”

“I think I could really end up liking you, but I’m all messed up inside and broken and I don’t think I would fare well if we didn’t work out. I’ve lost a lot of people I care about, and I don’t wanna hurt anymore, but you’re different and I like that about you and I just plain like you and it scares me.”

“ _Darlin’_ , let me-”

“And the war makes it all just so much worse because you could die out there. Bucky you could _die_ and it wouldn’t matter how happy I made you or you made me and if that happens I wanna be in your life all the way up to the end so you had me but I’m scared of how I will feel if I’m alone at the end. You make me feel happy and confident and smart and appreciated and I’ve never had that before and I don’t want to stop feeling that way and I’m scared of what would happen if we don’t work or  you die and I’m back alone because I don’t think I can be the person I am with you without you and-”

“ _Anna!_ ”

Bucky half-yelled my name and it echoed and bounced around on the tall, curved brick walls and ceiling. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me slightly. It all left me looking at him wide eyed and my bottom lip trembling. For a few terrifying moments, he just looked at me.

“Didn’t they come up with a vaccine for the Spanish Flu?”

The innocent way he asked the question made me press my lips together and let out a wet sound that was part sob and part laugh.

His hands slid over my shoulders, clad in the short-sleeve blouse I wore. He passed the sleeves, his strong, bare palms and fingers slid smoothly down my upper arms, over my elbows and forearms. They paused at my wrists and turned my hands palm-up before sliding down and linking our fingers. Bucky pulled me toward him and leaned forward more. I found myself leaning closer as well, like we were magnets trying to slide into our natural state.

Our faces were only a few inches apart. Bucky must have been uncomfortable on the edge of his chair but he didn’t say anything. His thumbs gently kneaded my hands, sending dull zings of pleasure and relaxation right to my heart.

“I-I’m sorry your family didn’t treat you right.” Sincerity dripped from every word.

He tugged on our joined hands, making me look at him again.

“But if you mentioning your shit family and a deadly illness is supposed to drive me away, you’re gonna have to try a whole lot harder than that.” He was smiling now, but his eyes were still sympathetic and sad. “I knew Steve when he was hacking up gunk from his lungs and God knows what else—Illnesses don’t phase me much anymore.”

I sniffled once. Worried I’d shed some tears, I shook my hands free and stood up from my chair. My glassy eyes searched for something to wipe my face with.

Bucky gently took hold of my elbow and turned me. He’d rolled down one of his sleeves and pulled it over his thumb, raising it towards my face slowly. When I flinched a little, he pulled it away. He let go of my elbow and ever so gently put a hand on my neck, his thumb up on my jaw. Bucky lifted his other hand again, the one with the sleeve pulled down, and looked and me with raised brow. I just blinked at him, and he gave an encouraging nod before bringing the hand towards my face. He gently brushed the rough fabric, made a bit softer with ware, under my eyes and caught the tears that escaped down my cheeks. He even wiped under my nose to get any drippy snot that came from my abrupt weeping.

I watched him as he carefully cleaned up my face. His eyes were so focused on catching every tear; the cerulean blue was stormy with emotion but still cool and calm. He was taking such care not to move too fast or brush to hard with the rough material. Idly, I wondered how he wore the shirt, it seemed so uncomfortable. Bucky was so gentle and caring, and I couldn’t remember when someone treated me like that last.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t want to get all weepy,” I whispered.

Bucky just shook his head and got the last tear on the corner of my right eye. “You don’t gotta apologize, Glow. You feel what’cha’ya feel and I’m not gonna fault you for that.”

There was a pause. Bucky’s other hand rested on my neck like his other hand, his thumbs brushing gently over my jaw. My hands found themselves resting against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat under my left hand.

“Did you mean what you said? About how you could really end up liking me?”

My cheeks burned. “Yeah…I meant it, and it-it scares me a little.”

Bucky suddenly pulled me into a hug. His strong arms cradled me against his chest, wrapping around me and protecting me from the world beyond the two of us. I pressed my forehead between his pectorals and took shaky breaths. This was the type of thing that worried me, that I wondered if I’ve be any good at or if this kind of touch would cause me anxiety. I’d built it all up in my head, but now that it was happening, it was the most uncomplicated feeling and I relished it.

“I’ve never met a lady like you before, Glow…You’re an original, Anna Brightman. They broke the mold after you.” Bucky rested his chin on my head. “And it scares me a little bit too, cause if I mess this up I’m gonna regret it for the rest’a my days. I care about you, Annie, a lot, and I’m only gonna care more and feel more as time goes on.”

I let out a shaky breath and pressed my face into his chest more firmly.

Gently taking my face in his hands again, Bucky pulled my face up to look at him. He used his thumb to swipe away another tear.

“Let’s be scared together and see how it goes,” Bucky offered with a small smile. “We’ll take things slow, as slow as you want. I’m in no rush, Glow. When we get back from raids or missions or whatever Steve’s callin’ them, as long as I get to lay eyes on you, and maybe hold your hand or take you out to dance now and then, I got all I need.”

I sniffled and nodded. My fingers began fiddling with the buttons and button holes on his shirt. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Bucky pressed a kiss to my forehead. His lips were soft, and his scruff pleasantly rubbed against my skin. He tucked my head under his chin again and we just stood there, embracing one another, for a few minutes that felt gloriously like forever.


End file.
